First Impressions
by Kasamyra
Summary: Getting over an addiction is always hard, unless you have something else to replace it with. Dan's been addicted to Phil's personality since they met, which makes dealing with Phil's new boyfriend very hard for him. Life for Dan becomes inexplicably easier when he meets his neighbor, a girl with paint on her hands and color in her soul.
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! So I know that Dan/OC fics aren't the most loved ones, but this idea just popped into my head and I had to write it. It's just going to be a short cute story, so enjoy :)

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Chapter One - Meet Not-So-Cute

Though she had made no effort to stop the heavy door from slamming, the bang of it still made her jump as she set her foot on the first stair.

She always took the stairs, they were calming to her. They seemed confined, though they were actually quite large, and the dust that was always floating in the air reflected the sunlight in a way she liked.

Or maybe she just didn't like the elevator. It was always stuffy, it jerked when it moved, it was loud, and she didn't want to risk getting trapped in a small space with a stranger and possibly be forced into polite conversation.

She would have shuddered at the idea, but she didn't have the energy. Today had been one of the worst days in a long time. Not for any particular reason, just a lot of little things all day.

Logically, she could tell herself that it was all in her head, and she was over reacting, it was just the depression getting to her. But there was also a part of her that just wouldn't stop fretting, and worrying, and thinking.

And the more stairs she climbed, the louder that part of her got, until she had to stop walking, and sink down to the floor on a landing, her back against the wall as her breath quickened and tears leaked over from her eyes.

She wrapped her arms around her legs tightly, and tucked her face into her knees, letting her hair fall around her, blocking out the light.

The small logical voice in the back of her head told her she was having a panic attack again, and if she would just breathe normally, it would be over soon, but that voice was fading fast until she couldn't hear it anymore at all, and her mind overwhelmed her with memories of her day, and her past, and things she had told herself so often she believed it now. She was worthless, alone, no one cared, she was a burden, she couldn't do anything right, nobody could possibly love her, she should just do the world a favor and die.

That brought her mind back to the familiar place of picking out ways to die. It would be easy here, she was more than ten floors up and the gap in the stairs was big enough to fall down. She could easily break her neck from the fall. There were windows in here that opened to the street below. If the fall didn't kill her, a car would get the job done.

But no, she couldn't do that, it would be wrong. She didn't want to ruin someone's car, or scar someone for life by them coming in the stairwell and finding her dead body.

"It's okay, just breathe." Breathe in, breathe out, she took a deep breath, purposefully slowing it down as the reasonable voice in her head grew in volume again.

Just breathe. She did. She could feel her heartbeat slowing down a bit, and as sound returned, she could hear her loud breaths echoing against the stairs, and she made an effort to quiet them. She could hear the cars far below, and she could smell the dust in the air around her. The next thing she was aware of was a warmth on her shoulder and quiet voices.

She jerked her head up, bringing her hands to her eyes to wipe away any tears that hadn't been soaked into her jeans. Her face felt dry, and she guessed some time had passed, but she wasn't sure how much.

She looked up, taking in the two people around her, both crouching, though they were still much taller than her huddled form. They were both watching her warily, and the warm hand on her shoulder withdrew quickly and she couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up as she got to her feet.

She had always been short, but she felt like a little kid when the two guys beside her stood up as well. They both towered over her. Usually, being outnumbered and basically boxed in by men who were bigger than her would have made her anxiety spike off the charts, but at the moment she just couldn't care. Besides, both looked like they were scared of her, which is what had sparked her chuckle in the first place. They glanced at each other as she giggled again.

"I'm sorry," she managed to say, though her voice was almost a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Sorry."

"Er, it's okay?" The shorter of the two said. She glanced between them, noting the discomfort and anxiety on both of them from the encounter and she knew how weird this whole thing must be, which made her chuckle again.

"Sorry, it's just, you both are so big and I'm tiny and you look like I'm going to go crazy any second and attack," she explained between chuckles.

Surprisingly, both of them seemed to relax at her stunted explanation and they even smiled, as though finding humor in what she had said.

"You're American?" The taller one asked when the situation became uncomfortable again.

"What gave it away? The accent or how generally rude I am to have a panic attack in the middle of a public hallway?" She asked, doing her best to turn the whole thing into a joke. That was her usual coping method. Make people laugh about it and they will forget how weird she is. Both boys snorted, and she smiled.

"I wouldn't consider this a public hallway," the taller one said. "Considering the lack of cleanliness."

"Good point," she agreed and they all stood there awkwardly. "Well, as much as I love awkward conversation and talking to strangers, I'm gonna go now. Thanks for... uh, being decent people I guess?"

"Er, you're welcome?" The shorter one said with a laugh, his tongue poking between his teeth.

She took off up the stairs before anyone could say anything else, having had more than enough human contact for the day.

She made it up to the top floor and unlocked her door with shaking hands, then leaned back against it once it was closed again.

The familiar smell of paint washed over her, and she immediately relaxed as she drew in a couple deep breaths.

She always felt better after a panic attack. Exhausted, but mellow.

She shed her jacket and long sleeved shirt as she walked back to her room, leaving them in a pile on the floor with all the other clothes she had worn since the last time she had done laundry. She flopped onto her bed, face down, and sighed as she felt the weariness soak through her muscles, sinking her down farther into her mattress.

She was asleep within moments, even though the bright sunlight was hitting her back, and it she had only been awake for maybe six hours total that day.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two - I Guess We Can Be Friends Then

A loud banging on her door made her lift her head in slight panic. She had been in a productive groove for the past week or so, cranking out paintings left and right.

Her living room, if you could call it that, was covered wall to wall by plastic floor protectors, most of which were covered with different colored drips of paint. The walls were hung with various works, mostly hers, but a couple of paintings by other small artists she knew locally.

There were easels set up in almost every free space, all housing drying paintings she had worked on recently. The other three rooms in the house were in similar states, even her kitchen had work on the counters.

But her state of panic wasn't from the clutter, it was from her half clothed state. She hated to be dressed while she worked. Clothes always seemed to get in the way and she had ruined more than one good piece with dragging hems. She had a sports bra on, and leggings, which she figured was decent enough to peek around a door for a moment to see what whoever was still banging on it wanted. She hoped it wasn't religious people. Those were worse than the ones selling things, but only marginally.

"Who is it?" She called, wiping her hands over her leggings to get the paint off them. It did nothing more than smear the colors together a bit.

"Er, I'm your neighbour next door and I was just coming by to tell you that-"

She pulled the door open, and he cut off. She tilted her head to one side, eyes narrowing for a second in thought, then widening in recognition.

"I know you!" She said suddenly, and he tensed. "I met you in the stairs the other day."

"Oh, er, right," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced her over once, then his cheeks tinted a bit and he looked over her shoulder.

"Oh, sorry about this," she gestured over herself, trying to use talking to counter the awkwardness she always felt when taking to someone new. "I was just working. I'm Jamie by the way. I'd shake your hand, but I doubt you want to have paint on you."

"I'm Dan," he said after a moment.

"Uh, did you want to come in?" She asked, tilting her head a bit. She wasn't sure what the usual protocol in this situation was. He shrugged, so she stood aside, not sure if that was an acceptance or not. She left the door open, assuming he wouldn't stay very long, since she had nowhere to sit available. "Sorry about the lack of furniture. It's just me here and no ones ever come to visit before, so I never saw the need."

"Did you paint all these?" He asked, his voice soft and far more comfortable than she'd heard it since she'd met him all those weeks ago.

"Yeah," she said, just as softly. "Well no, not those three, but the rest yeah."

"Wow," He said, looking around the room. She wasn't sure if that was a positive 'wow' or a derisive one, and she started fidgeting, her anxiety crawling up on her.

This was why she never went to her own shows, she hated seeing people's reactions, even if they were good. It made her nervous.

"So, what were you saying?" She asked, trying to draw his attention away from the paintings. It worked.

"Oh, uh, I was coming over to tell you that we are having a few people over tonight, and I don't think we will get too loud, but if we do, feel free to come over and tell us to quiet down," he said, tucking his hands into his jeans pockets, which seemed like a struggle since the fabric was basically painted on.

"That's okay, none of your other parties have ever bothered me," she said. "I like having noise while I paint."

"Other parties?" He asked with a frown and head tilt.

"Yeah, well, I mean, you're right next door right?" She pointed at the far wall that connected to the next apartment over. He nodded. "Well you had a party two months ago, and three months before that, and maybe more in between when I wasn't home. None of them have ever bugged me."

"Didn't you just move in?" He asked, confused.

"Last year in January," she said with a smile. "So almost two years now."

She grinned as his mouth dropped in surprise.

"Really?" He asked after a moment. "We didn't know anyone lived here. We thought this place was empty actually, until we heard music playing last week."

"Well usually I'm pretty quiet and I don't go out much," she said with a shrug. "I used to travel quite a bit last year, too. Since my family is all in America. I actually only know you guys moved in last October because Margie told me, I wasn't home at all that month."

"Margie?" He asked with another head tilt that made her smile.

"Don't you know any of your neighbors?" She asked with a laugh. "Margie is the old lady in 1806." She pointed to the far end of the hall. "1805 is empty and the guy in 1804 just moved out last month. 1803 has the Connors, and their two cats and a parakeet that I think is against the building rules. And 1801 is me, which leaves you in 1802."

"Oh," he said, absorbing the information.

"Yeah, sorry I never did the neighborly thing and came over with cookies to introduce myself when you moved in but that's not really my thing," she said with a shrug.

"Mine neither," he said with a small smile. "Well, it's nice to meet you."

"You too, I think," she said.

"You think?" He asked, looking slightly offended.

"Well for all I know you could be a serial killer or something," she said with a shrug. "In that case, it's not so nice to meet you."

He laughed at that, and she relaxed a bit, glad she had made him momentarily happy.

"See you around," he said, heading to the door, then turning around once he reached it. "Would you want to come? To the party I mean? Tonight?"

"I mean this in the least rude way possible, but hell no, thanks," she said shaking her head. "Party's are definitely not my thing, or people or strangers or loud atmospheres. Unless you have a cat or a dog, then I'd consider it."

"Nope," he said with a laugh, and she was glad to see he hadn't seemed offended at her words. "Party's aren't my thing either," he said. "We only have them so our friends know we are still alive."

"I see," she said, resting a hand against the edge of the door as they stood. Her fingers still had blue paint on them, which she didn't notice had smudged on the outside of the door a bit. "Thanks for coming by, see you later." He nodded and she closed the door.

He stood there for a moment, eyes drawn to the blue thumbprint left where her hand had been resting. It was the exact same color as her eyes, he noticed, before walking back to the door down the hall.

While they did become quite loud that evening, Jamie was so lost in her work that she didn't care at all. In fact, most of what she could hear was laughter, and music, both of which she liked to listen to, especially while painting.

She had been stuck on landscapes recently, probably because there was such a lack of landscape around the city. She didn't mind the city, in fact, she loved the noise and business of it, but she did miss home, with its huge forests and lakes and rivers. Plus landscapes were so calming to do, and she'd had a hectic week. Well, month really, and she used these to stay calm. And it also helped that she had started taking her medication again. No more panic attacks, and very little thinking about dying. Also, slightly less creative. She always did her best work when she was unmedicated.

At least, it seemed that way for her. She felt better about working anyway, and more accomplished when she finished something. The meds didn't make her a zombie, but she had a hard time caring about anything while on them, which would in turn make her think she was okay (better off even) without it. That led to her stopping the meds, spiraling down into heavy depression and panic attacks until the point where she would realize she really did need the meds.

This whole cycle took anywhere from a couple weeks to several months. The best times were when she had just quit them or just started them again. After she stopped, she would still feel the effects for a week or so, but she would have that feeling of freedom that came from purposefully skipping her pills.

The days she started them back up was also good, because she would feel the desperation to die being packed back into its little box next to the panic attacks and feeling of worthlessness.

Her mood would balance out, the little part of her mind that pointed out easy ways to die as she noticed them would fade, and she could pretend to be a normal, fully functional adult for a while.

A burst of laughter from next door rang through the walls, and she smiled, closing her eyes. She could almost pretend that the joy that was present in the next room was surrounding her as well. It warmed her, filling her with a fake sense of belonging for a moment, until she opened her eyes again, focusing on the canvas in front of her. She had started it to be peaceful and beautiful, but it had slowly morphed into a dark and dreary place. She had used too much black to paint the night sky, and too many grays to make up the moonlit scenery, and the blue of the lake was too dark.

She frowned at it a moment, then picked up a clean brush and dipped it in white, then swirled it though the purple, just a touch, and painted a single perfect lily flower in bloom on the shore.

She stood back, tilting her head at the painting, then stepping farther back to repeat the action.

Yes, that was perfect. One bright spot to bring out the darkness of night and lack of color.

She grabbed the dirty cup of water that was soaking all her used brushes, and stacked it on top of various palettes of paint she had been using, then deposited the whole pile into the utility sink next to her laundry units hidden behind a folding door in the kitchen that she almost always left open.

She grabbed the handful of brushes and spread them out on the bottom of the sink in the tray she kept there for that specific purpose, and ran cold water over them.

There was something cathartic about running her fingers through the bristles under the water and watching the paint wash away. It always made her feel clean, like a fresh start.

There was a tapping on her door almost so quiet she couldn't hear it over the running water, but it was continuous so she caught it.

She turned the water off, dried her hands on her leggings, and went to answer the door.

It was Dan again, which shouldn't have surprised her since he was the only person who had ever visited her in this apartment.

"Hi," she said when he didn't say anything.

"Hi," he replied, shaking his head a little as though to clear it. He looked sad, she realized after a moment, and she recognized the tiredness and self doubt that came from having a good time with a lot of people, but having to stamp down the depression the whole time. She smiled, stepped away from her door, and gestured him inside, closing the door behind him. She moved some empty canvases off the solitary old couch that was pushed more into the kitchen than the living room, and set them on the already crowded table.

"Have a seat," she said, waving a hand at the couch. "You want some tea? Or coffee? Something stronger?"

He had been shaking his head through the first few options, and shrugged at the last, so she took a few beers from her fridge, and a bottle of whiskey, setting them on the only available edge of the table and going in search of cups.

"Well, we'll have to use coffee mugs, I don't have anything else," she said with a frown. "You want Bob Ross or Mr. Rodgers?"

"Doesn't matter," he murmured softly, as she set both down next to the whiskey. She unscrewed the cap, filled each mug half full, and handed a mug and a beer to him.

"So," she said, sinking down to the floor to sit cross legged as another burst of laughter rang through the walls. "What's up?"

"I just..." He started, but shook his head, not really knowing what to say.

"Needed a break from the people?" She asked, and he nodded. "Because even though you were having fun and surrounded with people that you genuinely know care about you and your well-being, the contentment only lasts so long before it fades and you start doubting yourself and then wondering if they actually do like you or if they just feel sorry for you, and wondering if you're a burden and if they would be better off if you left, and then wondering if they would even notice if you left, or if they would secretly be relieved you weren't there anymore. And all of this builds up in your head until you just have to leave, and be in a quiet place for a minute to calm down before you break down in front of those people who don't even really know you at all, and this pushes you to just get out and go to the closest quiet space available."

He's quiet for a moment, watching her with wide eyes.

"Do you read minds?" He finally asked, and she laughed at that, finally taking a sip of her whiskey, relishing the way it burned down her throat.

"That's what I feel like at parties," she explained. "Or any social gathering really. You weren't freaked out by coming across my breakdown in the stairs, and neither was your friend, so both of you must deal with panic attacks on a regular basis, which means one of you probably gets them."

"You're very talkative with someone you don't know," he said after a moment.

"Well how else am I supposed to get to know you?" She pointed out and he smiled a bit, but it faded fast. She knew what she would want in this situation, quiet, comfort, peace. "Hey, I have a bit of cleaning up to do real quick, would you mind?"

"No, no, sorry," he said, moving to get to his feet.

"No, stay," she said, pointing to the couch. "I'll just be a sec." He resumed his seat and she went back to washing out her brushes, setting them all in a drying rack, then moving on to the palettes. When those were clean she washed her hands and arms, and her bared stomach, then pulled on a T-shirt that was sitting on her dryer. She sniffed it to make sure it was clean as she pulled it on. While she was perfectly comfortable in leggings and a sports bra, she wasn't the one on the edge of a panic attack, and he was likely more comfortable with her skin covered.

She took her seat on the floor, draping a nearby sweater over her lap and picking up her mug again for another sip.

"You wanna talk?" She asked. He looked a bit better than he had before.

"What is this, a therapy session?" He asked with a grimace.

"Nah," she said, flapping a hand. "You couldn't afford me." He snorted at that and she smiled. "Tell me about you."

"That's the worst ice breaker question," he pointed out. "It's not even creative."

"Well, words aren't my chosen form of expression," she said, gesturing at the canvases around them.

"Right," he said with a resigned shrug. "What do you want to know?"

"I do have a question actually," she said, her voice serious as she leaned forward a bit. "It's really important and very personal, do you mind?"

"Uh, maybe?" He said, not knowing what could possibly be so important.

"Are you sure?" She asked. "You don't have to answer but the future of our friendship depends on your reply."

"Okay," He said with a nod, and leaned forward in concentration. "What is it?"

"What Hogwarts House are you in?" She asked, her voice dead serious.

He laughed, his entire face brightening, and she noticed that he had dimples in both his cheeks that stood out when he grinned. He looked younger when he was happy, the stress lines around his eyes disappearing into joyful wrinkles.

"I'm a Gryffindor at heart, but I was sorted into Slytherin first," he said. "I went back and took the quiz again after about ten minutes of feeling guilty about my answers."

"Hm," she said, pretending to consider him.

"Do I pass?" He asked, a smile still lingering on his face. "Can we be friends?"

"Well, I suppose," she said at last, her lips curving up into a smile.

"Wait a sec," he said with a frown. "How do I know I want to be friends with you? What house are you in?"

"Ravenclaw, with a side helping of Slytherin," she said. "I took it twice too," she explained at his small head tilt.

They both laughed for a moment, but stopped when a louder burst of laughter sounded through the wall. His smile faded fast, and she sighed, taking another mouthful of whiskey. Neither of them had touched their beers.

"So what's the party for?" She asked, making small talk to keep his mind off the anxiety she could see bubbling under the surface. "Any special event?"

"It's Phil's... friends birthday next week," he said with a shrug that was probably aiming for nonchalant but came out tense. "We are having the party a bit early because he's going home next week to spend time with family."

"Phil's the other one I met?" She asked.

"Yeah," He said. "Tall, skinny, blue eyes." He trailed off his describing and she frowned in thought.

"Well, you can feel free to come over here and watch me wash out paintbrushes to avoid socializing anytime," she said, trying to lighten the atmosphere again. "I'm always here and I always have brushes to wash."

"Faces too," he said, gesturing to the side of his neck to indicate she had paint there. She shrugged.

"Bound to be some somewhere," she said, making no move to get it off. "I'm used to it. I'll go out sometimes and look down and there's paint on my arm that I haven't used in a week. There's always some no matter how much I scrub it off."

"Your art is really good," he said after a moment of silence.

"Thanks," she said with a smile. "It's my favorite thing to do. I just... love everything about it. The smell of the paint, the feeling of the canvas, everything. Even when something doesn't turn out how I'd intended it, I still love the process of getting there. It's cathartic."

"Do you sell any of it or just do it for fun?" He asked. He'd been nodding along with her speech, so she assumed he had a similar passion for something.

"Sometimes," she said with a shrug. "I've got a couple connections with a few art studios in town, and one of them runs a website with my paintings on it. It's not much income but it's enough to pay for this place and food and supplies and that's all I really need."

"That's practical," he said with a smile.

"I get some from commissions too," she said, standing to pull a stack of canvases to the floor with her to show him. "Most of the time, commissioned pieces are based off a photo, and I just find them really boring. Like, why bother paying extra for a scene you already have a visual of?" She shrugged a bit again. "Since I don't like doing them as much as other stuff, I charge more," she said with a wink and he chuckled.

"So what do you like painting then?" He asked, watching her slide the stack of portraits back onto the table.

"I love it when people just ask me to paint something for them without specifying what they want," she said with a smile. "Most artists hate that, because it's the first thing people ask when they find out you're an artist, but I like being able to put what I see about someone down on paper for them to see. Everyone is different, and everyone has flaws, and sometimes that's all you can see about yourself, so it's nice to be able to give someone something based off their best self, the self that I can only see when they let down their guard a bit. That's why I like making people laugh, a genuine laugh, not a polite one. It's like a glimpse into their soul, just for a second."

"Are you sure that 'words aren't your chosen form of expression' or whatever that was you said earlier?" He asked, finishing off the whiskey in his coffee mug. She smiled, standing to put both empty mugs into the sink.

"They aren't my preferred, but I do seem to be good at them," she said. "Unless I'm around more than two or three people. Then I become a stuttering silent shadow."

"Nice alliteration," he said with a laugh.

"Are words your preferred way of expressing yourself?" She asked. "Since you know what alliteration is and your accent is... what do you call it here? Posh, right?"

"Articulate," he corrected immediately and she could tell it was something he said often. "Yeah, I suppose they are."

"You suppose?" She asked, tilting her head to the side a bit, something she realized after doing it that she was mirroring from him.

"Well, I'm in the public eye a lot, so I have to really watch what I say, and what I do, so it sometimes feels like I'm... trapped into acting a specific way," he explained.

"So that means you're either in politics, or entertainment," she said. "I'm guessing entertainment, since you don't seem much like the political type, but I could be wrong."

"You aren't," he said with a smile. "Entertainment is a pretty good summary."

"So you are limited and shaped by your target audience into what you want them to see about you..." she thought out loud. "That seems exhausting. What do you do for fun then? As something where you can just be you, and not worry about being judged for it?"

"I guess I don't do anything," he said, frowning in thought. "Just stay at home and play video games sometimes, or scroll through social media."

"Well that's good enough, I think," she said. "You've gotta have something to do that you can be your whole self while doing it. Otherwise you go crazy."

"Well doesn't painting for work negate painting as a fun hobby?" He asked, tilting his head to the side again.

"Sometimes," she said with a nod. "But then I stop working for a while and just paint what I want until I feel better."

He nodded and they fell silent for a moment.

"Can you paint something for me?" He asked, remembering even through his more than slight buzz, that she had said she liked to do that. Her face lit up with a brilliant grin and she jumped to her feet immediately, searching the table for a blank canvas.

"It may not be up to my usual standard because I'm more than a bit tipsy," she said as a general disclaimer. She always made excuses like that, it was second nature, a way to defend herself against negative comments.

She pulled an easel in easy viewing distance of the couch, and turned it so that he could see as she worked, which she knew was the opposite of how most people worked, but she also knew that watching an image form from nothing was her favorite part of painting to observe and she wanted others to observe it too.

She wanted to paint his eyes, they had stuck with her since the first time they had met. Her eidetic memory could put the colors in front of her mind with perfect accuracy, but now that she had gotten to know him a little better, she wanted to add more. She turned to look at him for a second, taking in more detail, then went to get a clean palette and a brush.

"Are you a cat person or a dog person?" She asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing as she used a dark brown as a base, and a large brush to cover the canvas with it.

"Dog," he said immediately. "I like cats just fine, but I like dogs better."

"But you don't have one?" She said, remembering their conversation earlier.

"Nah," he said with a shrug. "We travel too much to be able to take care of a dog properly."

"You refer to yourself as 'we' quite a lot," she pointed out.

"I guess I do," he admitted with a shrug. "I live with Phil and work with him, and we spend most of our time together, so its habit."

"And you aren't together?" She asked, the curiosity of some of his earlier words growing too strong to resist. He was quiet a moment.

"No, we aren't together," he said simply.

"Sorry, it's none of my business," she apologized immediately, not turning away from her painting. "It's just that, I don't know you well, and you seem sad, and I want to know why, because I want to help, but obviously you don't know me either, so there's not really anything I could do to help anyway because it wouldn't have any personal meaning."

"You're rambling," he pointed out, and her mouth snapped shut. "It's okay, I don't mind. I'm used to people prying."

"That's not a reason for me to do it too," she said, her voice soft. "What kind of entertainment do you do?"

"Youtube," he said.

"Oh, like video games and stuff?" She asked. "I don't go online much. I don't even have a computer."

"It's more like... vlogs and stuff I guess, but games too," he said. "I've actually been taking a break for a while."

"How come?" She asked, glad he was opening up a bit more.

"I just needed some time to myself to figure out... what I want to do I guess," he said. "There's no break as a youtuber, it's constant content, constant working, and there's no break. I just wanted to step back for a while. I want to be more open with them, but I don't know how to do that from the image I have formed online."

"I can't say I have been there," she said. "But I understand."

"Is it rude to say I can tell what you are painting?" He asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"No," she said with a smile he couldn't see. "I don't imagine it'll make sense till it's done, and even then it'll only have the meaning you give it."

"That... weirdly makes sense," he said. "It's like a 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder' type thing, right?"

"Exactly," she said with a grin. "I can tell you exactly what I think of any painting, mine or not, and what emotions I get from it and what the artist was trying to convey, but it would only be that way for me. We could both look at an abstract painting of shapes and colors, and I could see green as the dominant color and you could see blue. Even more, I could look at the same painting on two different days and where when I'm sad I see emptiness or hatred, when I'm happy I could see passion and excitement."

"I guess that's why therapists use that ink blot test," he said with a laugh.

"I always thought those were useless," she said. "Who goes to a therapist when they feel happy and comfortable? No ones ever going to see anything good in an inkblot test when they only take them when they are down and out of sorts."

"That's true," he said.

"That's my 'thing' in the painting world," she continued.

"Thing?" He asked.

"Yeah like, the thing that sets you apart from everyone else in your field. The thing that makes you stand out or recognizable," she said. "I don't label my art. No titles, no stories, no description. Just my name, and that's all."

"My thing is wearing black," he said with a smile. "And being depressed. And British."

"So if I googled 'British depressed youtuber wearing black' I'd find you?"

"Probably," He said with a shrug. She wiped her hand on her shirt and pulled out her phone to do just that, then laughed a second later and held her phone up. "Look at that, the first picture is you."

"So if I google 'no title paintings' would I find you?" He asked, glancing down at his own phone.

"I doubt it," she said. "I'm not a known artist, I don't have my own studio, and my art is only sold through a small gallery in town."

"Found you anyway," he said with a laugh, holding up his phone.

"Really?" She asked, turning in surprise.

"Yep. Local artist Jamie Taylor," he said, holding his phone up for her to see the little picture of her next to a list of the other people who sold through the gallery.

"How'd you know my last name?" She asked with a laugh, turning back to her painting.

"I didn't, it just says it by your picture," he said with a chuckle.

"You're pretty good at internet stalking," she said, her voice teasing.

"Well it's only fair since I'm so easy to find," he said, glancing at his phone again with a frown. "I probably should go back. It's been more than an hour now and they'll be wondering."

"Okay," she said, nodding. "I'll keep working on this."

"If it's taking up your time too much don't worry about it," he said slowly. "It's not important."

"Of course it is," she said narrowing her eyes. "You can't just discount something you asked for just because you don't want to feel like a burden," she said. "Just because something is about you doesn't mean it's unimportant."

"You're strange, you know," he said, shaking his head a bit.

"I know," she said with a grin. "What's the fun in being normal?"

"Good point," he said. "I'll see you later."

"Bye Dan," She said as he closed the door. She went back to her canvas.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three - We Have That in Common

The painting for Dan had turned out far better than she had hoped it would, though in the back of her mind she was sure he wouldn't like it.

It had been an entire week since the party and the official start of her friendship with Dan, to her at least. She hadn't left her apartment once. She had no reason to.

She hadn't spent the whole week working on his painting of course, but it had taken her the full week to be happy with it.

The background was several different shades of brown, from almost black at the outside, to near gold in the middle, all bursting outwards in straight short lines from the center. Over that, she had used black for the edges and white to make a bit of space in between and carefully turned the brown into tiny puzzle pieces, all fitting together, but not quite connected.

When she looked at it she saw the warm brown of his eyes, fading from black to gold as they did in real life, but she had changed it to blend less, so the gold streaks stood out more, adding a warmth to the overall feeling.

The puzzle pieces were made to fit together but not tightly, which she saw as how he saw himself. Lots of little pieces that could be whole if he would let them, but kept separate by self doubt and lack of confidence. She had purposefully used white for the spaces between pieces to bring light to the picture, as though saying that if he could just embrace the hope, everything would be okay. She always had seen white as a peaceful color, pure and clean. Like hope.

She wrote all of her thoughts down for him on a paper and sealed it in a small envelope, then started another note, telling him what was in the first and why she had broken her defining move of no stories or labels. She also added that she hoped he didn't read it, and that he could form his own opinion of the art and what she wanted it to say. When she was done, she put everything together in a bigger envelope, and taped it onto their apartment door, leaning the dried canvas against the frame. She would have knocked, but she hadn't changed out of her painting clothes and she also really didn't feel like having a conversation right then.

She was still on her meds, and still hadn't had another panic attack since the stairwell one, but she just didn't feel like human contact at the moment.

Later that evening she gave up avoiding socializing. Her cupboards held very few dry goods and her fridge had nothing more than beer, a single slice of cheese, and two apples that were starting to get on the old side.

She shut her door behind her and took the stairs to the street, then walked the five blocks to the nearest grocery store. She wasn't in a hurry, even though it was almost nightfall and looked like it might rain.

She had never minded walking in the rain, even when it was cold out. It was another thing she found cleansing and relaxing. Especially here in the city where everything was dirty. The rain washed everything it touched, made it clean and glowing. She loved that glow, the reflection of lights in water. It was beautiful.

She was halfway through her shopping when she recognized a voice in the next aisle and went over to see. Sure enough, there was Dan, and Phil, arguing over different flavors of Oreo and which one was the best. She listened to their words for a moment with a smile.

"Get the mint ones," she piped up when they had almost decided on double chocolate. "The chocolate stuffed ones are too much chocolate, and the cake ones are too sweet."

Both men jumped, then Dan grinned and shook his head. He looked happier than she had seen him since they'd met, and she wondered if it was his company, or something else that made him feel that way.

"The mint ones?" He said with disgust. "Are you insane? Clearly the chocolate ones are the best. Phil, this is Jamie, our neighbour who did that painting I showed you."

"Oh," he said, his face lighting up with recognition. "That was a really good painting. It's nice to meet you. Again."

"Yes I look different without the dust of the stairwell coating me," she said with a smile, though she knew the main difference was her hair, which had been down before and was today in a messy bun on top of her head. He tucked his hands into his pockets and smiled, looking a little awkward.

"Anyway, back to the important thing," Dan said, drawing their attention back to the cookies in front of them. "Chocolate stuffed is clearly the best cookie."

"But the cake ones are delicious!" Phil argued back.

"No way, the mint ones are the best. If you put them in the freezer for a bit and then eat them with hot chocolate, they taste just like Thin Mints! I'll fight you on this all day," she warned.

"What are Thin Mints?" Phil asked with a head tilt so similar to Dan's that she couldn't tell who had adopted the habit from whom. She gasped in mock horror.

"You... don't have Thin Mints here?" She asked, her eyes wide and her hand held up to her face. Dan was snickering beside her. "But... they are so delicious and just perfect, little minty crispy cookies baked to perfection and covered in chocolate. How have all you British people lived so long without the truly magical goodness of Girl Scout cookies? Though now that I think of it, it is called the Girl Scouts of America so I guess that makes sense..." She trailed off, seeing both of them covering their mouths to hide laughter at her rant.

"We call them biscuits here," Dan corrected.

"Well I guess you can't be right about everything," she countered immediately. "I'll have to get someone to mail me some from the states for you to try... it'll change your life."

"No biscuit is that good," Dan argued.

"These are," she insisted. "I swear it."

He opened his mouth, likely to argue back, but they were interrupted by some loud whispering nearby. Both of the guys stood up straighter and took steps back from her and away from each other, all in a second, as though it were an automatic action. They glanced at her at the same time, both with masked expressions, and she understood. They must have fans here, people nearby that were watching them, and it must be something they were used to encountering.

"What should I do?" She asked softly, glancing down the aisle.

"Nothing," Dan said with a tense shrug. "Just ignore them." She nodded, turning back to them with a forced smile.

"Anyway, nice to see you guys, but I need to get going," she said loud enough that whoever was nearby could hear her. They both gave her a smile, and a wave , and she grabbed a pack of mint Oreos and left the aisle.

She finished her shopping, and walked slowly in the rain back to her building, the bags weighing down her arms as she thought about her neighbors. How must it feel for them, not even able to go out shopping without people watching them and judging? She would hate it, if she were in their position. By the time she made it back, her hair and sweater were soaked through. She debated for a few seconds, whether to take the elevator just this once, but in the end she turned towards the stairs.

Her breath was short when she got to the top floor, and opened the door, almost knocking over Phil as the two boys walked past her from the elevator.

"Sorry!" She said, dropping her bags to help him pick up the one he had dropped when the door hit his arm. "I'm sorry, I should have looked before opening the door all the way."

"It's okay," Phil said. "No harm done."

"Why on earth would you take the stairs with all those bags?" Dan asked as Phil accepted the bag she had collected from the floor.

"It's the only exercise I get," she explained with a chuckle as she picked her bags back up off the floor. "I don't get out much so when I do, I take the stairs."

"That's actually a good idea," Phil said, trying to free a hand to unlock their apartment door. She had left hers unlocked for that very reason. "We should start doing that."

"Absolutely not," Dan said with a grimace. "Home is for relaxing, not for exercising."

All three of them smiled as Phil got the door open and went inside.

"Thanks for the painting," Dan said, standing in his open door frame. "It really is beautiful."

"You'll have to tell me what you see in it sometime," she said with a smile.

"Is that some sort of arty pick up line," he asked with a laugh. Her cheeks grew warm, though she did smile.

"No," she assured him. "I'd just like to hear about it."

He shook his head, smiled, then went inside and shut the door.

It'd been exactly three hours from the time she had found and followed Dan on Twitter that she got a notification alert. Most of the alerts were from local galleries, using the platform to reach out to younger potential customers. This one wasn't one of those, it was a link from Dan to a live show. She put it on and propped her phone up against the top of her easel, turning the volume up, then going back to her most recent work. She hadn't seen either of her neighbors in over a week, mostly because with all three of them working from home, they didn't get out much.

She had watched a few videos of Dan's, and a few of Phil's, but she had found that she most liked the ones they filmed together. Dan looked genuinely happy in those videos, and Phil seemed different in them too, though she didn't know him as well as Dan so it was harder for her to notice the change.

It was clear to her that Dan had very strong feelings for Phil, though he had said they weren't together. She was sure he didn't want to talk about his personal life with people he hardly knew. It must be hard, in his line of work, to get any privacy at all.

He had said he was taking a break from youtube, and evidently that meant from live shows as well, because he was currently making his excuses to the camera about his absence, and that yes, this was a one time thing, and no, he didn't have any plans for any videos in the near future.

The chat was going too quickly for her to read, but he had read several comments out loud, and answered them.

She smiled, listening to him talk about anecdotes and his life in general. She went back to painting.

The show lasted for about an hour, her attention fading a couple times as she focused on her work, but other times she found herself laughing along with a joke.

"'Who's this girl, who's this girl?'" He read out towards the end of the show. "Who's what girl? 'The one in the tumblr pic.', well hold on I'll go have a look."

He hummed for a second as he clicked around his computer, then his eyes widened fractionally, and he forced his face to smooth out and he grinned at the screen.

"The one in the store? With brown hair and blue eyes? That's my friend Jamie," he said, and she looked back at the screen, surprised he mentioned her, and that somewhere on the internet was a picture of her she hadn't even know had been taken. "She's the one that painted that cool picture on the wall behind me." He gestured over his shoulder, and she smiled, seeing that he had indeed hung up her painting.

"'Can we see?'" He read from the chat and he rolled his eyes with a laugh. "I dunno, can you? I'm just kidding, hold on a tic." He stood and got the painting from the wall and brought it back to the camera. It wasn't high quality, and from the wall it looked like nothing more than an array of browns, and up close it was difficult to see the puzzle piece shapes.

"Isn't it cool?" He said to the computer, then leaned it against his bed and sat back down. "'It's the same color as your eyes, Dan,' Is it? I hadn't noticed that. 'I want one!' Well maybe you can buy one, I think she's got a website."

While he continued to talk, she quickly made an account on the app, and spent a dollar to send a premium message to the show, with her website and twitter handle, and she signed the note '-Thin Mints' so that maybe he would know it was her sending it.

Sure enough, moments later he announced the end of the show, and that it was time for premium messages. He read a few about tv shows, and music, then he laughed out loud and grinned into the camera.

"I guess my friend Jamie is watching today and she sent me this message, 'I'm never one to miss out on an opportunity to self-promote without having to leave my house so here's my webpage."

He read out the page name, and the twitter handle, the laughed again.

"I hope you know what you are asking for Jamie, these guys are crazy."

He moved on to the next message without reading her sign off, which was fine with her since it was just for him anyway.

It wasn't two minutes after he signed off the chat that there was knocking on her door.

"It's open," she called over the soft music she had changed her phone to at the end of his show. She glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough it was Dan, taking his place on her slightly cluttered couch. "Hey."

"Hey," He said, plopping down. "So you watched my show today?"

"Yeah, I started following you on twitter so I figured I may as well, besides I like to have noise on when I'm working," she said, turning back to her easel.

"Pencil and paper?" He asked, getting up to come a bit closer. "I thought you painted."

"I don't draw often, and I hate using pencils, but my aunt asked me to do this for her. She has this really old sketch of my great, great-grandma that's been hanging on her wall as long as I can remember, but they had a water leak and it got ruined," she said, using her pinky to smudge the graphite.

"And the camera?" He asked, pointing to the tripod set up just behind her left shoulder.

"The woman at the gallery says I should start promoting myself on social media platforms," she said with a shrug. "I even bought a computer." She pointed at the table where her new laptop was still in its box. He snorted. "I'm trying to find a way that I don't mind doing. She suggested videos, but I'm not too sure about having a tripod behind me. I've bumped into it several times already."

"Did she suggest time lapse videos?" He guessed, coming over to look at the camera.

"Yeah, those I can do," she said, ignoring his presence and continuing to draw. "She walked me through how to do it, and gave me the program she uses to do her own."

"Nice camera, you need some more lights in here though," he said, resuming his seat on the couch. "And if you moved the camera back a bit, then zoomed in before you started so the canvas is centered, you wouldn't bump into it as much."

"The camera is borrowed," she said. "I don't have enough knowledge or expendable income to get a good one right now."

"I can help with that," he said with a grin. "We get sponsorships from a few companies, and last year we got a Cannon XR that neither of us use. It's not the best quality, but it's better than that one, a bit."

"I'll trust your opinion on that since you know more than I do about them, but I couldn't accept a camera from you, just because it's spare," she said, finally turning away from the paper and clicking off the recording camera.

"Well then think of it as a loan," he said. "Long term."

"Thank you," she said, not wanting to argue. "And I'll look into lighting."

"Are you done for the night?" He asked as she opened the fridge and pulled out some water.

"Maybe," She said with a shrug. "I don't always sleep normal hours so I might work on it a bit more. But I need to set up that before tomorrow afternoon, per my orders and I've procrastinated it for several days now. Do you want anything to drink?"

"No thank you," he said as she unpacked the components of the computer. "Did any of my fans follow you on twitter yet?"

"You know that saying 'fans' like that makes you sound narcissistic," she pointed out with a smile. He just shrugged. "And I'm not sure, haven't checked and when musics on it mutes notifications. Do you think they will just because you said I'm your friend?"

"Some of them are obsessive," he said without thinking, then frowned at himself. "I mean... excessive? I dunno. They're all great but sometimes it's too much."

"You can't have a following as large as you do without crazy or obsessive people participating," she shrugged.

"Just, if you don't mind, if they commission something with me or Phil in it, could you ask me first?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"They'd want me to paint you for them?" She asked, glancing over her screen.

"I dunno, maybe," Dan said. "I just don't want to look on tumblr someday and see a detailed naked portrait of me. There's enough of those going around."

"Really?" She asked, laughing. "They draw you naked?"

"There's some pretty gruesome stuff out there," he said, smiling a little, but she could see the tightness in his eyes, and the tone of regret in his voice.

"I don't do naked drawings at all," she said, "and I usually require signed permission from the people I paint from pictures anyway. I've never done fan art before. Always been told it's degrading and ruins the respect other people will have towards your work. I see nudity the same way. Sometimes it adds to a statement you're trying to make, but usually it's unnecessary to involve."

"Thank you," he said, sighing in relief. "Oh, I got you something, by the way. As a thanks for the painting."

"You didn't have to do that," she said with a frown, glancing up from the screen again. "It was something I wanted to do because I like doing it, not something I expected repayment for."

"Just sh," he said with a smile as he got to his feet. "Be right back."

He was gone for less than a minute before her door cracked open again.

"You're faster than my computer," she said waving a hand at the screen which was still in the process of going through the setup.

"That's what she said," he responded immediately and they both laughed.

"Wouldn't that be a bad thing?" She asked as he sat.

"Shut up," he said with a laugh, and held a plastic bag out to her. She set the computer aside and took it into her lap.

"Thanks, I was running low on plastic bags since I used all mine to make a noose to hang myself with last week," she said in a deadpan voice. He snorted, and she drew out the bottle inside.

"It's to repay you for the whiskey I drank last week," he said with a shrug.

"Thanks," she said in surprise, looking at the bottle. "I've never had this brand before. Want some?"

"Sure," he said. "I claim the Bob Ross mug though."

"It's dirty," she said as she went to get cups for them. "Today's options are plain white, or hello kitty."

"Hello kitty," he said. "White goes against my aesthetic."

"But pink doesn't?" She asked, cracking some ice into the cups, then pouring the whiskey over top and taking her place back on the floor.

"No," he answered, his voice full of false seriousness. "Do you want to sit on the couch?"

"Nah," she said. "Not only do I not want to clear it off, but I also like the floor better."

"You're weird," he said, sipping his drink.

"Duh," She said simply, picking her laptop up to finish the set up.

"So why is your twitter handle Jay instead of Jamie? Nickname?" He asked after a while of silence.

"Jamie sounds too childish, and my mom used to call me Blue Jay when I was little, so I went with it," she said. "Besides, my full first name is actually James."

"What, really?" He asked incredulously. "Why?"

"When I was born my mom was expecting twins," she explained, not looking up from the computer screen. "They could tell one was a boy but couldn't tell my gender, so they had mostly boy names picked out. My brother would have been called James, after my grandpa, but he died shortly after birth because he was born with under-developed lungs and heart. I was too, but I was the bigger baby and I pulled through. Mom named me James after him. I'd have been called Hazel if he'd survived."

"Wow, I'm sorry," he said solemnly.

"I never knew him," she said with a shrug. "Mom still cries over it sometimes, but it's not like I was the one who had carried him full term and then lost him. I'd imagine it's harder when you spend nine months carrying them only for them to die when you finally think everything's going to be okay. It's bad enough when you lose them early, you still develop an attachment, but you don't ever feel them move, and if someone else didn't tell you from tests, you wouldn't even know you had someone else growing inside you. I can't imagine her pain. She'd heard his heartbeats, held him in her arms. I don't know that I'd live through that loss." She wrapped her arms around her stomach and didn't look up from the computer. "I'm sorry, I tend to overthink everything, most of the time out loud."

"It's okay," he said, then hesitated a moment as though he was going to continue, but didn't.

"Yes, I speak from experience," she said, answering his unasked question. "I've miscarried three times in all. It's why my last relationship ended."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"It's not your fault," she said with a shrug. "It's a very long story and I don't think I'm drunk enough to tell it. Maybe some other time."

"I'm not trying to pry," he said. "I don't need to know about your life."

"Yeah I know," she said. "But we both need someone to talk to, so why not each other?"

"I don't really need someone to talk to," He said, finishing off his drink. "I have Phil."

"Phil, who you are in love with, but not together with?" She pointed out, though she was guessing. "I imagine there's a lot you keep from him."

Dan was quiet for a very long time after that, but he didn't leave, so she didn't say anything else, just began setting up her email and various other media accounts as he thought through what she'd said.

"I'm not in love with him," he said after a long while. "Not in that sense." He hesitated for a moment, then continued in a vice very close to a whisper, as though he was afraid to say it. "I used to be, for a long time."

"But you still have feelings for him, even if it's not love anymore," she pointed out. He was quiet again.

"Phil's my best friend," Dan explained. "He has been for years now. He's helped me through some really rough times in my life. I... don't know where I'd be now if I hadn't met him."

"Ah, your own personal sunshine," she said nodding. He looked confused so she continued. "That one person who is able to break through even the darkest of times and bring sunlight into your life when you need it the most. Everything they do seems perfectly suited to bring happiness into your life, their smile can pull you out of your own mind for a while and their voice is the only thing that cuts through the panic. You can feel them come into a room, and you feel dark and empty when they leave. I had one of those for a while."

"What happened?" He asked, his voice barely higher than a whisper again, as though the less socially acceptable the topic, the quieter he had to talk.

"I got burnt," she said easily. "I became dependent on him, everything I did revolved around him and he used it to his advantage. He changed, from a sun into a supernova, destroying me in the process. I gave him everything I had of me, and he left me empty, and I had to learn how to live again in the dark, by myself."

They were quiet for a while.

"You have a way with words," he said at last.

"So you've said," she replied.

"Phil would never do that, I don't think," he said thoughtfully.

"Does he know how you feel about him?" She asked. He nodded. "If he knows, and he's not using it against you, he won't. He seems good. Like a genuinely good person, but I don't know him enough to say for sure."

"He is," Dan agreed adamantly. "He's the best person I know."

"You're lucky then," she said. "It's not often people can find someone who's so in tune with them that they can just coexist easily like that. It's special."

"Soulmates," Dan said immediately, then his cheeks tinted. "I always thought Phil was my soul mate."

"I think you can have more than one, and soul mates aren't exclusively romantic in nature, in my experience," she said. "Just someone who understands you without you having to explain yourself. Someone who inspires you to become a better version of yourself. Someone who will always be a part of you, no matter what happens, because they believed in you when you didn't believe in yourself."

"Do you have one?" He asked, nodding along with her assessment.

"I'm kind of a solitary person," she said, shaking her head. "When people get close to me I push them away until they leave me alone. It'll happen to you sooner or later, I'm sure."

"I won't let it," he said, his voice vehement. She looked up in surprise. "You're right, we both need someone to talk to. And from now on, you're my 'I need to talk' person."

She met his eyes for a long moment, surprised he had changed his mind so quickly, going from denying needing someone to talk to, to telling her outright that he did.

"Alright then," she said, her lips tipping up into the smallest of smiles. "You can come over whenever you want and we can talk. But at some point in the future I'll start making excuses to stay alone, and I'll try to make you angry at me. Fair warning."

"Just please don't post anything I say on the internet," he said. "Even if you decide to hate me."

"Deal," She said. "I never would anyway. I can't imagine how you live on a daily basis without any privacy except in your own home."

"And in yours," he pointed out.

"True," She said with a laugh.

"My middle name is James by the way," he said with a smile. "I was going to tell you that earlier but the conversation got too serious. She laughed.

"Well then besides depression, anxiety, and needing someone to talk to, that's another thing we have in common."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four - Parties Aren't My Thing

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Absolutely not."

"Pretty please?"

"Daaaan, I really don't wanna go," Jamie said, letting her voice turn into a childish whine. They were sitting at her recently cleared off table, across from each other, both with their laptops open in front of them.

Over the last four months, Dan had been over nearly every day, and they'd had several half-drunk conversations about life, relationships, work, everything imaginable. She considered him to be her best friend, though she knew Phil held that position in his life, which was okay with her.

She knew Dan was taking up the space her ex had, slowly. She'd begun craving his company when he was gone, and finding herself breathless when he smiled at her. She knew it was dangerous to her, that in the long run, she would get hurt again, but she couldn't help it. It had been so long since she'd had light in her life, and she drank it in greedily now, taking everything he would give. Her mind told her to push him away now, before he could hurt her, but she couldn't bring herself to do it, which meant it was already too late.

He was arguing now to try to convince her to come to the party (he called it a gathering) that night, as he had been doing every night the last few weeks.

She already knew she would go, she would do anything he asked her to at this point, another sign she should push him away, her mind told her. But she knew she'd go, just to be around him, even if there would be people there with him. She had already chosen an outfit and knew how she wanted to do her makeup and hair. She also knew that if she gave in too easily, he might realize just how strongly she was addicted to him, and then he might use it against her.

Logically, she knew he wasn't like that, he was different from her ex. He was gentle and caring in a way she had never realized her es, Tony, had never been, and Dan needed to take care of someone, just as he needed someone to take care of him. She had told him so before, one of the times they had been talking about Phil. She had surmised that was the reason the two men hadn't worked out as a couple. Dan needed to take care of someone, but Phil didn't need to be taken care of.

He hadn't disagreed, but the subject had changed shortly after that.

"Please," he said again, his voice begging now. "I need you there."

That voice was her breaking point. She sighed and pushed the laptop away from her.

"Oh alright," she said, and absorbed every detail of the resulting smile.

"Really?" He asked happily, then he frowned as the usual self-doubt kicked in. "I don't want you to come just because you feel guilty not going because I asked you."

"Dan, what other reason could I possibly have to go to a party where you'll be the only person I know?" She asked, her voice flat.

"It's not a party, just a gathering with some friends," he said for the hundredth time.

"I'm going because you asked me, and that's the only reason," she said seriously. "But I don't mind going and I don't want you to feel bad about asking me to go. You aren't a burden."

It was something she had said several times in their past talks, hoping that if she said it enough, he would start believing it. He gave her a smile, letting her know he'd heard, but didn't say anything else, just turned back to his laptop with the smile lingering on his lips.

He spent quite a lot of time in her apartment just scrolling through tumblr or watching videos on YouTube. Usually she would paint while he was there, not minding his presence at all. Today, she had been answering client emails. Her work had picked up a bit since Dan had shared her webpage on his live show, but most of her current commissions were from local businesses, wanting something that conveyed their brand, but could be used as decoration in waiting rooms or lounges or meeting rooms to add to the atmosphere.

She found she like those kinds of commissions almost as much as she liked painting a 'paint me something' painting. She could take what she knew of the business and their views, and turn it into art.

She finished answering her emails, then went back to her room to shower and dress. It didn't take her long to finish getting ready, but she stayed sat at her vanity in her room for a long while, staring at the mirror, trying to talk herself down from her growing panic over the party.

"Jamie?" Dan's voice was accompanied by a knock, then the door cracking open. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she said automatically, meeting his eyes in the mirror. Her high voice betrayed her and a look of understanding washed over his face.

"You really don't have to come," he said, leaning both hands on the back of her chair above her shoulders. He'd discovered months ago that she didn't like to be touched unless she initiated it. She couldn't help it, but she flinched every time, the last remnants of her first real relationship. He hadn't asked why and she hadn't told him. She would if he asked, but she didn't want to bring up the darker parts of her past if it could be avoided. But she wouldn't lie either, not that she thought she even could, to him.

"It's okay," she said after a deep breath. "I'm fine."

"Jay, you really don't have to come," he said softly. "I'm sorry I begged you to come. I know you don't like parties."

"You don't like them either," she pointed out with a sigh. "Who's going to be there? Do you think they'll like me? Do I look okay?"

"You look great, and of course they will like you," he said soothingly and she relaxed a bit. "Just some friends, most of them are other youtubers and their SO's, and Phil's... friend."

"Phil's boyfriend?" She asked, tilting her head a bit.

"Er, well," he began, then sighed and sat on the bed. She turned to face him. "Yeah, But he didn't want it to get out, you know, online, and since it's not my secret to tell I didn't want to say anything."

"It's okay," she said, knowing why he really was upset. "I won't say anything, you know I won't."

"I know," he said with a sigh.

"Is that why you want me to be there?" She asked, wanting to clarify. "Because you'll need someone to lean on when Phil's attention is no longer on you?"

"Kinda," he said in a resigned voice. He had stopped denying the things she pointed out ages ago, when he realized he could trust her not to judge him for it. "I just hate that I rely on him for so much but I can't help it. And I'm not in love with him, I'm really not, but I still hate seeing him smile at other people and knowing that he doesn't need me how I needed him."

"I understand," she said, walking over to give his shoulder a single pat. He smiled up at her as she walked to the door.

"You always do," he said with a chuckle.

At the front door she turned to face him, holding her arms out to her sides.

"Do I have any paint on me?" She asked, turning on the spot. He laughed and shook his head.

"None that I can see, but you probably have some on your arms and stomach that are hidden by your shirt," he said, reaching past her to open the door, then letting her walk through under his arm, which was easy for her since she was so small.

She had only been in Dans apartment a couple time. He'd given her a tour, and they'd watched some some movies or played games in the living room since she didn't have a tv, but most of the time they were at her place.

No one else had arrived yet, but it was still early as Dan wanted to help set up snacks and games.

She perched on the arm of the couch in the living room she usually occupied when they were there, her leg bouncing against the side. No one else was even there yet, and her anxiety was already climbing.

"Hi Jamie," Phil's voice was soft behind her but she still jumped, not having heard him approach. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's all good," she said, getting to her feet. "What's up?"

"Dan said he told you about Ryan and I dating," he began, and she realized she'd only ever heard who she was guessing was Ryan referred to as 'Phil's friend'. She nodded.

"He didn't really tell me," she said, worried that Phil was angry with his friend. "I guessed."

"It's fine, you knowing and all," he began, and she cut him off.

"I'm not going to tell anyone, especially the internet," she said, already knowing where this is going. "It's no ones business who you are or are not dating, including mine. And honestly as long as you're happy, and he's happy, and everything is good, I don't even care."

He gaped at her for a second and she frowned.

"That didn't sound like how I meant it to," she backtracked. "I meant that, even if you aren't my friend and I don't know you very well, your my friends friend, so obviously I want you to be happy since you being happy makes Dan happy and Dan being happy makes me happy. I guess I'm just trying to say that you shouldn't feel the need to tell me about your personal life unless you want to, and I hope that even though you don't know me you can trust me enough to be yourself around me without fear of something you don't want everyone to know being spilled out online for the world to see."

"You're quite the talker," he commented after a pause.

"Don't worry, as soon as two or three people show up that I don't know I'll become so quiet you'll forget I'm even here," she said with a smile.

"I appreciate your views of privacy," he said. "And I understand why Dan is friends with you. He talks about you so often I'd swear he's obsessed."

"It's not me he's addicted to," she said seriously, watching his face. She knew Dan wouldn't lie to her on purpose, but she had wondered if he simply assumed that Phil knew how he felt, rather than actually knowing for sure. Phil's eyes dropped to the floor for a moment, his shoulders drooping.

"I know," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she said. "You're a good person, from what I've been told. You aren't manipulative, or hurtful, and you're just what he needs to be happy."

A knock on the door ended their conversation and she could tell Phil was relieved. He obviously didn't like talking about his emotions to strangers, but then again, who did?

She wandered over to the kitchen, hoping to stay close to the only person she already knew. Dan was setting a stack of plastic cups on a table that already held various snack foods, plates, and forks. She smiled at him, then found a place in the corner where she was out of the way as people she didn't know started coming in to get drinks. Dan talked to a few, waved at others, and smiled the whole time.

He could say he didn't have any friends besides Phil all he wanted, but she could tell he was more relaxed around these people than he was on camera or out in public.

A few people greeted her, and she exchanged names and hellos politely, doing her best to sink into the wall behind her.

"Jamie," Phil's voice stopped her mental attempts to become invisible. "This is Ryan. Ryan this is Jamie, she lives next door."

"I've heard a lot about you," he said, holding a hand out to shake. He was about the same height as Phil, maybe a bit shorter, with light brown hair and green eyes, and was dressed simply in tight jeans and a plain blue T-shirt. She shook his hand because she had no way of politely declining it, even though handshakes were her most hated greeting.

"Every introverts worst fear," she said, trying for a joking tone but her voice was tight with anxiety.

"Nothing bad," he said with a smile, and she relaxed a little, noticing that the kitchen was almost completely empty now.

"That's what they all say," she muttered, and he laughed. Dan came in then, and hesitated upon seeing Phil and Ryan. She could see the exchanged glances and anxiety and the tense atmosphere between the three of them, and she knew for sure that Dan still hadn't accepted that Phil had someone else to take care of now.

"We're starting up a game of Cards Against Humanity," he said, and she frowned. She had hoped to avoid socializing as long as possible but she could tell that Dan needed comfort right now, and she couldn't ignore that even if she wanted to.

"Awesome," Ryan said, then grabbed Phil's hand and dragged him to the living room.

She watched Dan for a second, seeing his face fall and before she knew it, she had crossed the room, wrapped her arms around his waist, and leaned her head against his chest. He hugged her back immediately, hunching over to press his face into her hair for a second. Then he straightened, and she dropped her arms, and they both walked into the living room silently.

It had been a very long time since she had hugged someone. Her perfect memory told her it had been two years and three and a half months earlier, right before she had left for London, when her mom had hugged her goodbye.

Her brain replayed the scene for her as she took a seat on the arm of the couch next to the spot Dan had taken. She passed on joining in the first round, saying she would rather watch for now, and nobody argued so she was able to sit back and relax a bit.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five - In Motion

"So, Jamie, do you do YouTube too?" One of the guests asked during a break in the game. She had zoned out during introductions, trying to keep from panicking, and she couldn't recall this girls name. All eyes in the room turned to her and her heart began beating furiously against her chest as she willed herself to sink through the couch.

"I-I, um," her voice came out as a whisper and she glanced at Dan in panic.

"She's a painter," Dan piped up, drawing attention away from her. She took in a slow breath, trying to calm herself. "She's really good too."

She wanted to chastise him, for saying something like that, but the words wouldn't come out through her tight throat.

"Oh I love art!" Another one of the girls piped up. "Do you have anything we can see?"

All the eyes were back on her now, and she blindly nodded, slipped from her seat, and left the apartment for her own. As soon as she was in the hallway she leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm herself down.

Logically she knew there was nothing to worry about, that those people were all trusted by someone she trusted, that there was no one in that room that would hurt her or embarrass her, or any of the other hundred things her mind was telling her.

"Is she okay?" She heard through the door, and she held her breath. She didn't want to eavesdrop, but her brain told her this was a good thing, now she could hear what they thought about her when she was gone. She hesitated, but carefully cracked the door open to listen.

"Yeah, she just doesn't really like talking all that much," Dan piped up, covering for her.

"Oh okay," the same voice said.

"And she's not, you know, like a fan girl?" Another voice popped up.

"Nah," Dan said. "I trust her."

"She didn't know who we were when we met her," Phil explained.

"And she's been friends with Dan for months now and hasn't said anything about any of us," she heard Ryan say.

"That's great," the first voice said. "I'm glad you guys found some friends outside of youtube."

"We should play Jackbox next," a third voice said. "I brought the new expansion."

She turned away from the door as they changed subject, going into her place. She stood for a minute, wondering what to bring back with her, and was disrupted by a light knock on her door.

"I'm fine, Dan," she said without turning around. "I'm sorry for leaving like that."

"We understand," he said and she turned around in surprise.

"Oh, Phil, I'm sorry," she said. "I thought you were Dan."

"I get that a lot," he said with a smile.

"Is everything okay?" She asked, not sure why he was here.

"Yes," he said, then shrugged. "I just wanted to talk to you for a second."

"Oh okay," she said, twisting her hands together to try to sooth her nerves.

"About what you said earlier," he started, then stopped, rubbed his neck, and began walking around the room. "About Dan and I."

"I didn't mean anything by it," she said, watching him look at various paintings. "I just wanted to... Well he told me once that you knew about how he sees you, and I wanted to know if you actually did or not because with you being in the position you are in Dan's life, you have a lot of power over him, and if you didn't realize you were doing it, it would be easy for you to use that power badly. Or if you did know and did it on purpose. I just wanted to make sure... that he would be okay."

"Dan's my best friend," Phil said. "I love him, I want him to be happy."

"I know," she said with a smile. "Anyone can see that."

"I can't help how he sees me and I can't quite say that I understand, but I'd never do anything to hurt him," he said.

"I know that too, and so does Dan," she said softly. "You're a good person Phil, and that's the most important thing. I've been in Dan's place when the person I needed the most wasn't as good a person as I thought, and it ended very badly and took a long time to recover from. The fact that you genuinely want Dan to be happy makes all the difference in the world."

He was quiet for a moment, looking at a landscape painting she had finished a few days earlier.

"Dan's been happier these last few months," he said quietly. "It's hard for me to notice because he's always been happy around me, but there's just been something different recently. I think it's because of you."

"Oh?" She asked, trying to stop her mind from jumping to conclusions.

"I suppose I'm trying to do the same thing you are," he said instead of explaining further. "I want to make sure that if he starts leaning on you the way he does on me, you won't... well, I don't want him hurt."

"I-I need him the same way he needs you," she said, stuttering through the admission.

"I know," he said, and she looked up at him in surprise. He met her eyes and grinned, tongue poking through his teeth. "That's obvious to anyone who wants to look for it."

"Oh," she whispered, looking down at her feet. She had thought she'd been concealing it better than that. She wondered when he had noticed it, and if anyone else had.

"I think you should bring these four," he pointed out a few paintings. She collected them without looking at them, and he took them from her and headed to the door.

She felt calmer for some reason as she went back to the living room with Phil.

She managed to get through showing her art, and explaining that she never titled or storied anything, and why. They seemed to appreciate the work, and she didn't hear anything bad about it as they finished out their game.

"We should record," a guy she didn't know the name of said as they started up Jackbox and Dan explained the games to her.

"Just a few rounds," Phil said, nodding. "We can put some on our gaming channel, and have a few rounds for everyone else's channels."

"Sounds good," a few others agreed. Everyone looked at Dan, she assumed since he was the only one in the room taking a break from filming.

"Sure," he said with a shrug, though she could tell it was only because everyone else wanted to.

"I'll sit out for that," Ryan said, patting Phil's knee as he stood.

"I should too," Jamie whispered to Dan. "I don't want to start any rumors with your fans."

"Are you sure?" He asked. "We don't mind if you join." He gestured to the others, who nodded in agreement. She still shook her head.

"I'll come back when you're done filming and play a bit, I promise," she said, getting to her feet. He nodded, and she left for the kitchen as the others set up screen capture and various cameras.

One other girl followed her, and a guy she didn't know, and they sat with Ryan at the dining table.

"So you're Dan's girl, and Phil's guy, and your Louise's guy, right?" The other girl asked. She had dark blonde hair, and dark eyes, but she had a bright smile on her face. "I'm Joe's girlfriend. My names Anna."

"I'm not 'Dan's girl'," Jamie said immediately. "I'm just a neighbor. My names Jamie."

"Ryan," Ryan said as way of greeting.

"I'm Sam," the other guy said quietly. He had black hair and dark eyes, and seemed quiet, a total opposite of the girl Jamie thought was Louise.

"That's too bad you aren't with Dan," Anna said to her. "I was gonna suggest we all start our own YouTube channel and call ourselves the Significant Others."

She laughed to show it was a joke, and the others chuckled too.

"So I know you're a painter," she said to Jamie, who nodded. "What do you do?" She asked Sam.

"I'm trying to earn my masters in Chemical Engineering," he said shortly.

"Wow, a smart guy then," Anna said. "I went to school for accounting but I hated it. Now I work at an animal shelter. What about you, Ryan?"

"I'm a photographer," he said, drawing Jamie's attention. She hadn't known he was also an artist. She knew next to nothing about photography, but she knew that people drawn to visual art were the ones she got along with the best. "I have a photo studio downtown. It's mostly family portrait type stuff right now, but I want to expand more, maybe get some of my stuff in shows."

"That's awesome," Anna said. She definitely was the most extroverted in their small group, but none of the others seemed to mind her taking charge of the conversation. Jamie herself was glad for it.

"I'm working on a project right now actually," he said, trying to keep the conversation going. "I'm experimenting with different shutter speeds." He pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled through it for a second, then turned it to then to see. "Slower shutter speeds bring the focus of a picture to whatever is unmoving in the frame."

The picture he had pulled up was of a waterfall that was blurred as the water moved while the rocks around it were clear.

"What's the project for?" Anna asked.

"There's a gallery downtown that's having a show next month," he said. "The woman in charge said if I gave her a good enough portfolio she would display some of my photos."

"Which gallery?" Jamie asked softly, not wanting to interrupt the conversation but her curiosity overrode her anxiety for the moment.

"Art Smart. It's over on Queens and-" she smiled and said with him:

"And seventh."

"You know it?" He asked, his eyes lighting up.

"Amanda, the woman who owns it, displays some of my work there sometimes," Jamie said. "I can put a word in for you, if you'd like."

"No, no," Ryan said adamantly. "Thanks, but I don't want someone's word to be the reason my art is displayed."

"You want it to be accepted because it's good, not because of someone you know," she clarified. "I understand."

"That's exactly right," he said, giving her a warm smile. She nodded.

"I feel the same way about my paintings," she explained. "I want them to be appreciated because of what the person seeing it thinks it conveys, not because someone else told them they should like it. What's the point of putting your heart and soul into something, just for someone else to judge it by what they've heard and not what they've seen?"

She met his eyes for a second and knew he understood exactly what she was saying.

"I'd like to see more of your art sometime," he said after a bit. "You sound like you do amazing work."

"Well, I can't say I understand any of the artsy talk you guys just said, but I'd like to see some more too," Anna said with a smile. "My parents anniversary is coming up and they like things like that."

"Well, um, I have most of my stuff in my apartment," she said, voice soft again. "You're welcome to come and look at them if you don't mind the mess."

"That sounds great!" Anna said, getting to her feet.

Jamie hadn't meant immediately, but she got to her feet and led them out, past the rounds of laughter in the living room and over to her place.

Ryan took the most notice of the art, the other two weren't really interested.

"What do you think would be a good gift for my parents?" Anna asked, glancing around the well lit room.

"Well, tell me about them," Jamie said, leaning against a wall.

"Well both are in their fifty's," she began. "My mom looks just like me, my dad has lighter hair."

"No, I mean, tell me about their personalities," Jamie corrected. "Likes and dislikes, things that make them happy or sad."

Anna was quiet for a moment as she thought.

"Both of them are the youngest kids, and they both moved here from Russia as teenagers. My dad likes to read, my mom likes to be outdoors," she said slowly. "Is that good?"

"Yes," Jamie said, thinking now. "What kind of books does your dad read?"

"Murder mystery for the most part," she said with a laugh. "Though he does like those nature books with weird facts about animals."

"I have an idea," Jamie said. "I think I know what I can do for something they might like. I'll sketch it out for you."

"We should probably go back next door though," Ryan said, having heard their conversation.

"I can do it there," Jamie said nodding. "I think my sketchbook is over there already anyway. I've been trying to get more into pencil drawings lately."

They headed back over, and settled into the kitchen while Jamie retrieved her sketchpad from the living room, keeping her face down and away from the cameras, knowing that they couldn't edit her out if they needed to.

Anna continued to chat with the others as Jamie sketched at the table. With a little help from google, she sketched out the very edge of a Russian style city-scape, seeming to be pushed out of frame by looming mountains and streams and several different animals native to Russia in different areas.

She flipped it around for Anna to see just as the rest of the people in the living room began flooding in to restock snacks and drinks.

"I didn't know you sketched!" Phil said happily, and she blushed and set the sketch pad down as eyes turned her way. Anna pulled it over to her and looked over the drawing in silence, making Jamie clench her hands together tightly in her lap.

Then everyone looked away, going back to getting snacks, and Anna grinned over at her, and Jamie relaxed a bit.

"I love it," Anna said. "It's perfect."

"Thanks," Jamie said, her voice no higher than a whisper. "It'll probably take about a week to finish, maybe longer, is that okay?"

"Course it is," Anna said, still smiling. They exchanged email addresses, so that Jamie could contact her for payment and mailing, and then the four of them found themselves herded back into the living room to join a few rounds of Jackbox.

Even knowing all the cameras were turned off, having them still set up and pointing at the couch she was sitting in front of made her uncomfortable.

She leaned a bit to the side, letting her shoulder come into contact with Dan's leg as he sat behind her in the couch. He glanced down at her, but she didn't look up, so he turned his attention back to the game.

Her place on the floor was comfortable enough, but after a few rounds, she stood to go back to the kitchen, wanting to get away from the group.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six - I've Never Had Brothers Before

By the time the party was winding down, Jamie was exhausted. She had avoided most group activities, but even the few people she had talked to just left her worn out.

She stayed near Dan as people started leaving, even though she wanted nothing more than to be in the quiet haven of her apartment, she craved Dan's well-being more than her own, so she stayed by his side. She helped clean up, gathering cups and snack plates, and putting pillows back on the couch where they belonged.

"You really don't have to help clean up," Dan said, watching as Phil and Ryan laughed over something in the kitchen.

"I'm not tired," she said, though that was a lie. She could tell from the skeptical look he gave her that he knew it wasn't true.

"Wanna watch a movie?" He asked, sending one final glance at the two men in hothead kitchen. She shrugged acceptance, and soon they were sitting in silence, a few feet apart on the couch, watching a movie she didn't catch the title of and wasn't interested in at all.

Phil and Ryan disappeared further into the apartment, and Dan's shoulders slumped a bit.

"I'm sorry," Jamie said, the words escaping her lips before she had really decided to say them.

"What for?" Dan asked, glancing at her. His voice was just as quiet as hers had been.

"You aren't happy," she said simply, and he turned to face her fully for a moment. He didn't say anything, not denying her point, though she could tell it was his instinct to brush off the comment.

They watched each other for a long moment, the light from the television casting changing shadows over their skin. He looked back at the tv, then down at his hands, then back up.

"Can I ask a favor?" He said at last, and she had to strain to hear him over the movie.

"Anything," she said, hating herself for how quickly the word came out.

"Can we..." he cleared his throat, looking a bit embarrassed. Finally he just held his arm up, clearly inviting her to lean against his side. She hesitated, taking a long, slow breath. Then she scooted in, turning a bit to lean against him. His arm draped over her shoulders, his hand wrapping around her arm where in settled. She leaned her head against his chest, and pulled her legs up to the side so that her knees leaned against his legs. She could hear his heart beat through his shirt.

She was tense for a long while, but as she grew warmer from the proximity, and the movie played on, she relaxed a bit.

"Can I ask you something?" He asked, his voice soft, but loud in her ear as it rumbled through his chest. She nodded a bit, tensing a little again. His hand rubbed down her shoulder, probably trying to be soothing.

"Why did you hug me today?" He asked, and she sighed. It wasn't the question she was expecting, and she relaxed a bit.

"You looked like you needed it," she said simply.

"But you don't like being touched..." he said, and it wasn't a question, but she knew he was wondering why. She shook her head, then sighed.

"When I was little, my parents got divorced," she began. "I was three. My dad got remarried right away, to a woman with three of her own kids. My mom remarried a year after that, and her and my step-father had two children together. I spent my summers with dad and winters with mom, and I felt like I was the out of place family member. They all had their own individual families, and I spent my time bouncing between them, but never really fitting in. I moved out when I was 17. I just wanted my own place, a permanent place, somewhere I could actually call home."

She paused for a minute, gathering her wandering thoughts. She was tired and was having a hard time staying focused.

"When I moved out, I was finally free for the first time, and more alone than I was used to. I latched on to the first boy who showed interest in me. I didn't know any better, I'd never dated before that. I was just so grateful that someone wanted me, said they loved me, and seemed to care."

His hand tightened on her arm, guessing where she was going with the story.

"It didn't get bad until after I agreed to let him move in," she continued. "There were times before when I should have noticed how he was. Hindsight is 20/20 they say. He became controlling, always wanting to know where I was or who I was with, and he was paranoid, always accusing me of cheating on him when I wasn't. When I argued back, he would get violent. He always apologized after, saying he didn't mean to do it, and he was sorry, and to please not leave him because he needed me, and it would never happen again, and like the idiot I was, I believed him. I loved him, I did everything I could to make him happy but it was never enough. I lost my friends, the few I'd had, because he didn't want me talking to them. I lost my job because he wanted me to stay at home, said he could support us and I didn't need to work. I already rarely spoke to my family, we never were close, but then I stopped talking to them completely. When I finished school, I had no contact with the outside world at all."

"I'm sorry," Dan said when she stopped talking for a moment. His hand was rubbing up and down her arm, and she hadn't noticed that she'd been crying a little. She drew her knees up, trying to fold in on herself, and ended up turning more into Dan so her face was pressed into him fully, and her arm came around his waste to hug him to her.

"It was a year, more than that, before I got out," she said. "I don't know what it was, but one day he had come home angry from work. He hit me across the face, I fell, and he kicked me. Nothing was different about that day, but later when he was hugging me and apologizing and begging me not to leave him, I realized that this wasn't how it was supposed to be."

She sighed, bringing her hand up to wipe her face.

"I should have known before that, and I don't know why it took me so long to realize it," she whispered. "Logically I know that most domestic abuse cases are that way and that I'm just another statistic. I remember hearing about things like that in school, and I always wondered how those women could stay in that situation. I used to think they were stupid, or desperate, but I guess I just needed to really see it for myself to understand. I left while he was at work. I took some clothes and things and left. I guess I took the weak way out."

"Jamie," Dan said, leaning back to look down at her and meet her eyes. "You're the strongest person I know. You're amazing."

She couldn't help the few tears that welled up in her eyes at his words. She knew he wouldn't lie to her, but her brain automatically told her he was just saying that to be nice. She tucked her face back into his shoulder, breaking the eye contact.

"When I left I had no where to go," she said, figuring that she may as well finish the story now. "I'd driven everyone away, my family didn't live nearby anymore, and I didn't have friends or coworkers to lean on. I spent some time in a halfway house, I wasn't even twenty yet and my life seemed over. No job, no friends, heading nowhere. It was the lowest point of my life. That's when I met Tony. He came in at the lowest point of my life, he helped me build myself back up. He was light and joy and everything I was missing in life. I fell in love with him fast and hard, and he became my home. I got a job, I started painting again, I put myself through some community college, and got a degree in art history. I had a new apartment, new love, and new life, everything was perfect. We dated for three years. We got married, and were together after that for four more years. I was addicted to him, I needed him around me to be happy. I changed myself, I became more what I thought he wanted from me, I did everything I could to make him happy."

She breathed out, then in again, not opening her eyes.

"He wanted kids more than anything else in the world. We waited until I was done with school, we got a house, he had a good job, I had income from my art, everything was as right as it could be. The first baby I lost at only ten weeks. We had only know about it for a few weeks, hadn't even had time to make an appointment. He was heartbroken as much as I was, but we kept trying. The second baby I lost was a year later, and I hadn't even known I was pregnant when I ended up in the ER. The third one was two years after that, and I'd had an appointment and they'd told us everything was healthy. I'd started showing, just barely at three and a half months. They say the first three months is when you need to be the most worried, and I'd been so scared, but as the third month ended, I knew that this one would be the one that stayed. I just knew in my heart, I was so sure. We picked names, we had furniture, it's room was ready, we were so happy. Then when I started bleeding again I was so scared, and his face when the doctor told us, he was just so... his face was just... like his soul had been destroyed. His eyes were empty and sad, and all I could think was that I'd done that. I'd taken his sunshine and drowned it and then stomped on anything that was left until there was no light, no hope, nothing at all. None of the starlight I used to see there."

She had lost herself in the memory, almost forgetting where she was.

"I had taken this person and used him and turned him into nothing," she said softly. "After that, I just stopped. Stopped trying to make him happy, and stopped pretending I was happy. He became this huge black hole, trying to fill himself back up and replace all the pieces I'd taken from him to make myself whole again all those years ago. He said he was okay with not having children, but I couldn't do that to him, I loved him too much. His being so sad broke me, especially knowing I was the cause of that. I stopped painting, I stopped leaving the house, I couldn't face people knowing that I wasn't even able to do the most basic human thing and procreate. I agreed to try anything he wanted after that. We tried treatments, everything he could find, but nothing worked. He became erratic, sometimes he was okay with it, sometimes he was so angry... he never became violent, he never hurt me on purpose, but seeing him like that, it killed me inside. I loved him so much, I needed him, I craved him, but he didn't need me, I wasn't enough for him."

They sat in silence. The movie had ended while she talked, and the title screen was the only thing lighting the room. When she came back to herself, she had been scooped up into Dan's lap, her knees folded between him and the arm of the couch, her arms curled against her chest. Both his arms were around her, and his chin rested comfortably on top of her head, which was buried in his neck. One of his hands was moving slowly up and down her back, soothing her.

"I left him, flew here the same day I signed the divorce papers," she said softly. "He understood, I think he was glad for it."

"Jamie I'm so sorry that happened to you," Dan whispered to her.

"We are too," came Phil's voice from behind the sofa. She felt Dan move to look at him, but she kept her eyes closed and face tucked into Dan's neck.

"I'm sorry, we didn't mean to overhear," Ryan said, his voice closer than Phil's had been. "I was just leaving, and then I couldn't bring myself to interrupt."

"It's okay," she breathed out, not sure if they could even hear her. She was so tired. Her eyes refused to open.

She felt more than heard Dan talking to them, but she couldn't make out the words. The last thing she remembered was the warmth, and comfort, of being so close to someone, like she hadn't been in the last two and a half years.

When she woke up she wasn't on the couch anymore, but she wasn't in her own room either. Her shoes had been taken off, but nothing else. She was tucked snugly under Dan's black and white plaid comforter, and judging by the lack of light coming in the window, it was very late, or maybe very early, she wasn't sure.

She got out of the bed silently, carefully arranging it into the nicely made up state she remembered it being in the few times she'd been in the room.

The door was cracked open, and soft voices filtered in to her from the living room. She walked across the floor, trying to be quiet, but evidently wasn't as the three of them looked towards her.

She hesitated in the hallway, not wanting to intrude, and feeling anxious after her earlier truth telling.

"You okay?" Dan asked, patting the couch between him and Phil. She walked over and sat, pulling her knees up and nodded.

"Sorry for-" she started but was cut off.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Dan said, settling his arm behind her on the couch, not touching her. The others nodded, but were silent.

"I should go home," she said softly. "I didn't meant to interrupt."

"No wait," Phil said, reaching out to grab her arm as she stood. She flinched and sat immediately, and he pulled away fast.

"We have something we would all like to say," Ryan began, and she looked up, confused. She hadn't even seen him before that day, and she had no idea what he would have to say that was important enough for the seriousness in the room.

"I'll start," Phil said softly, turning to look at her. "We heard most of the story you told Dan earlier. I'm sorry for eavesdropping but I'm not sorry I heard it. I wanted you to know that even though we aren't close friends, and we haven't talked much, you will always be able to come to me with anything."

"The same goes for me," Ryan said from his place in the arm chair beside Phil. "I only just met you today but I can already tell we will be friends, you understand art and beauty the same way I do, and even though we are practically strangers, if you ever need anything at all, you can count on me to help."

Tears were welling up in her eyes again, and she didn't even care when they spilled over because they were happy tears, a kind she hadn't cried in years and years.

"Me too," Dan said, clearing his throat. "You've become one of my best friends in the last couple months and I want you to know I'll always be here for you if you need me. You aren't alone here, not anymore."

"You guys..." she trailed off and wiped her eyes on her shirt sleeve. "Thank you."

She stood and very slowly pulled Phil up to give him a hug, then Ryan, and then Dan. She laughed as they all sat back down.

"I haven't hugged anyone in more than two years and today I hugged three people," she said, drying her face. "I've never had big brothers I could count on before, but I think that's what this feels like."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven - Free Afternoon

The next day she slept in until almost noon, even with her nap the previous day. Halfway through her first cup of coffee, there was a knock at the door. She scowled at it, wondering why Dan wasn't just walking in like normal, but went to answer it anyway. It wasn't Dan at the door, but rather, Ryan. He grinned at her surprised look.

"Hi," He said. "I was wondering if you have a free afternoon today, would you mind helping me out with something?" He held up the camera on a strap around his neck.

"Sure," she said in surprise. "Come in for a second and I'll get dressed."

"Something warm, it's a bit chilly out," he called after her.

She chose a thin sweater with an old leather jacket over that, dark jeans and boots. She finger combed her hair, still a bit curly from the night before, and fixed up her makeup a bit so it didn't look like she had cried half the night.

"Is this for your project with slow shutter speeds?" She asked, coming back out to see him looking at her paintings.

"Sort of," he said, turning back to her. "I'm working on something else too."

"What is it?" She asked, following him out the door.

"I can't tell you or it'll be ruined," he said with a chuckle.

"Can we take the stairs down?" She asked as he headed to the elevator.

"It's 18 floors!" He said in surprise. She shrugged.

"I don't like the elevator," she said. He chuckled, but went to hold the door to the stairwell open for her.

The air was cold as they hit the street but she breathed it in eagerly. She hadn't been anywhere besides the store in ages, and the fresh air was wonderful.

"So what do you need me to do?" She asked, walking fast to keep up with him as he headed toward the subway. "I don't know much about cameras so I don't know what help I can be."

"No, no, I need you in front of the camera," he said, and she looked at him in surprise.

"You... want to take pictures of me?" She asked, confused.

"Yep," He said, scanning his card twice to let them both into the underground.

"But... why?" She asked. "Don't you have someone more... suited to be a model."

"Probably," he said with a shrug. "I'm not looking for a model, I'm looking for emotion."

"Oh," she said. "What kind?"

"Anything you'll give me," he said. She nodded, understanding the sentiment, and stood quietly beside him as they waited on the crowded platform. He snapped a picture of her profile, people in the background, and her looking at the ground as people swarmed around her. She didn't hear the camera over the sound of the train brakes screeching.

They got off at an exit and he led her to a park, mostly empty since it was still cold out.

They walked and talked for a while, him trying to help her relax more before he started directing her on where to stand or sit or lean.

"I'm going to ask you some questions," he began as they walked along one of the busier sidewalks. "You don't have to answer them out loud, just think about the answers, that's it."

"Okay," she agreed, more comfortable with him now.

"Stand here, on the edge of the pavement," he said, pointing. "Don't mind other people, and don't look at the camera unless you want to."

She nodded, standing where he said. She tucked her hands into her coat pockets to shield them from the wind.

"I want you to think about what you were saying last night," he said. She looked at him for a moment, meeting his eyes, then she nodded and closed hers for a second, tilting her head up towards the sky a bit remembering. She opened her eyes, looking at a store across the street from where she stood. She remembered the pain of losing someone she cared about, and the absolute torture of watching someone she loved turn into a shell of themselves. She remembered the hits thrown her way, and the loneliness. But then, without consciously trying, she started remembering last night, how good it had felt to get everything out in the open. Her eyes were closed as she remembered how warm and safe she had felt in Dan's arms, and how grateful she had been to all three of them for telling her outright that she wasn't alone.

"That's enough," Ryan said from beside her, and she opened her eyes, blinking to prevent tears. "Thank you, that was perfect."

He packed up his tripod again, hanging it over his shoulder, and they kept walking the busy streets, talking a bit. He snapped pictures of things around them that caught his eye, and she relaxed, taking in a part of the city she hadn't been to before.

"I'm an only child," he said when they had been walking for a while. "My parents are still married, and I was raised in an upper class neighborhood. I went to good schools and I had a lot of friends, my life was good and easy."

She payed attention closely, sensing he really wanted her to know what he was about to say.

"My parents were loving, if a bit distant, and they had a whole life chosen for me. A good university, a job lined up after that, private tutors if I struggled in academics. The trouble started when I became interested in photography. At first it was something for them to boast over. Their son was so smart and so creative and so good. He had hobbies, he liked sports, he was going to study to be a doctor."

She nodded, seeing how his passion for photography could never have lasted as just a hobby.

"We fought. I took the classes they wanted, and did poorly, until finally I dropped out. I took a late gap year, travelled, made friends. I'd always known I was different from my school friends. I was never interested in dating or kissing or sex the way they were. It took me a long time to realize that was because I wasn't interested in girls like they were."

"You went all that time without knowing?" She asked, surprised. She had known in middle school that she was different. She liked boys and girls, while her friends only liked boys. She didn't know it was frowned upon by society but she hadn't spoken about it much anyway.

"I'd never given it much thought," he explained. "Before that gap year, I'd never even thought about anything besides the fact that I was supposed to like girls and I didn't. I thought I just hadn't met the right ones yet, maybe I was just pickier than my friends, or waiting for one that I just knew was right for me."

"That makes sense," she said nodding. "I'm bi, I realized in middle school, and I didn't know there was even a word for that until high school. My parents didn't care by that point, so I never told them. Yours took it badly?"

"Very badly," he said, nodding. "There was yelling and crying, and finally they just disowned me. My being gay was the last straw for them, on top of all the other ways I'd disappointed them. I haven't talked to them in almost ten years now."

"I'm sorry," she said, resting a hand on his shoulder as they waited at a cross walk.

"Thanks," he said, his voice quiet. "I felt like I ought to tell you something about me since I overheard you talking yesterday."

"That's really unnecessary," she said as they started walking again. "While it's true that if you hadn't overheard me yesterday I probably never would have told you about it on my own, you shouldn't feel obligated to share things about yourself that you don't want to share. If we are going to be friends, and I would like to, I want to learn about you because you feel comfortable enough around me to share things you wouldn't share with someone you didn't trust. Friendship is something that should be grown from a seed, you can't just throw leaves on nothing and expect it to grow."

"I think that makes sense," he said with a nod. "Dan said you have a way with words, I guess I see what he meant now."

"I didn't realize you and Dan talked all that much," she said, stopping herself from asking what else Dan had said about her.

"We don't," he admitted with a shrug. "Yesterday was one of the only times we've ever actually sat down and talked seriously for more than a few minutes, and that was mostly about what you had said."

"Oh," was all she could come up with.

"I used to be jealous of Dan," Ryan explained. "And I guess I hated him a little. I saw him as the ex that hadn't moved on, and I thought he would be aggressive towards me, seeing as I was the interloper."

"What changed?" She asked. They were walking slowly now, not paying any mind to the people swerving around them.

"Time passed and he never said anything to drive me away," he said with a shrug. "He made himself scarce when I was over, he only ever said hello. He didn't try to be petty, he didn't try to take Phil's attention off me, and he never did anything to try to cause tension."

"That's not his style," she said in agreement.

"I can't say I understand the dynamic between Dan and Phil, though Phil's tried explaining it to me before," Ryan said. "Honestly it still makes me jealous, to see how they act together. I have friends, but none were ever as close as those two."

"I don't want to talk about them behind their backs," Jamie started. "But I can explain Dan's point of view because I'm the same way, if you want to hear it."

"Yes, I do," he said immediately. "I want to understand."

"I have depression, the first time I realized what it was, I was almost thirteen," she said. She wasn't sure how much backstory would be needed to make him really understand. "I was at my dads for the summer, and he lived in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. We were the second to last house on a dead end road. The last house had this huge circular driveway, about the size of a school track. My step siblings were all older than me, so I spent a lot of time alone outside. The rule as long as I could remember was that I was allowed on that driveway and our yard, but no further up the road. That summer my step mom told me that as long as I was back for dinner, I was allowed to go past our yard. I was walking on the road, nowhere to go because it really was the middle of nowhere, and I realized that I could die then, and no one would even know I was gone for hours. I don't know why I thought that just then, and I'd thought about dying before that, we lived near a bluff that was a two hundred foot drop to a fast river that was known for dragging you under with the current. I'd though of jumping off it since I was little, but never did for various reasons."

He nodded, and she could tell from his face that he couldn't identify with her words. He may understand, but he would never really know completely.

"When I thought about that, that I could disappear for hours before someone noticed, I had this strong sense of... freedom I guess. Not the usual sense of it, just freedom to die, without someone knowing right away. I went home that night and the feeling was gone, and I never got it back, but that's what I always thought happiness would feel like. That exhilarating feeling of just... being free." She paused, reorganizing her thoughts. "I chased that feeling for all of my adolescent life. The closest I could ever get to it was self harm, there's just something so freeing to know that you are in control and if you just cut a tiny bit deeper everything would be over. When I couldn't control anything else in my life, there was always that. And the adrenaline rush you get from pain was just so addicting... I'm sorry, I know that's something that no one talks about."

"It's okay," he said, though his face looked distant.

"Sorry," she said again for good measure. "It's been a long time since I've even thought about it, let alone done it, so there's no need to worry or anything."

"That's good," he said, shrugging. "I've never heard anyone talk so candidly about it."

"I find it's best to explain fully rather than let people draw false conclusions of their own," she said. "My point was, when you spend so much of your life feeling like that, and add anxiety on top of it, your mind just constantly telling you that no one will love you, you aren't good enough, not pretty enough, nothing you do is right, and even if you know better, you still believe those things deep down. When that's all you know from life you tend to latch on to the first thing that really makes you feel alive. Some people turn to drugs, or sex with strangers, or alcohol. Dan and I, we turned to people. I had my exes, Dan had Phil. I stayed in a bad situation because I could remember how good things used to be and I thought that staying was my only chance of getting that back. I thought that if I gave up this person, I'd never be able to find that happiness again anywhere else. I'd gone from self inflicted pain as an addiction to pain given by someone else. I don't think Dan's ever been addicted to pain, but he's addicted to trying to feel happy, and Phil's the only person he's known who's ever been able to make him feel that."

"So Dan is addicted to Phil," he muttered in understanding.

"That's how I view it," Jamie said with a nod. "It's easy for people like us to become addicted to the only sun that shines through the complete darkness in our minds."

"So you as well?" He asked. "You're addicted to someone?"

She turned to meet his eyes and nodded.

"I'm addicted to Dan how he is to Phil," she said for the second time in her life. "Dan's not in love with Phil, but he does love him. He wasn't Phil to be happy, because that makes him happy. Phil is his best friend, and Dan needs him happy to be happy himself."

"I understand," Ryan muttered, looking at his feet as they walked in silence.

"There's a lot of different kinds of people in this world," Jamie said after a while. "Dan and Phil didn't work together as a couple because Dan needs someone to take care of him, but he also needs to take care of someone to feel needed. Phil doesn't need someone to take care of him, and Dan knows that. I'm sure there were other reasons as well, but I don't know them. They love each other, Dan and Phil. Not romantically, but they are the best friends I've ever met. I think that for both of them, their happiness will in some way involve the other."

Ryan nodded, but kept walking silently. They passed an underground entrance and kept walking. They passed stores, parks, people, and kept walking in silence. Jamie didn't know where they were, she rarely left her neighborhood, but she trusted Ryan to lead them back at some point. She could tell he was thinking hard about something, but she couldn't tell if it was what she had said, or something else entirely.

"Do you think..." he started, and broke off, shaking his head.

"What?" She prompted when he didn't continue.

"Do you think that either of them, Dan or Phil, could truly love someone else?" His voice was strained.

"Yes, I think so," she said honestly. "I think that a person is capable of loving as many people as they want to. There are so many different kinds of love, and our feelings are changing constantly. The love they have for each other doesn't negate the love they have for other people. It's like people with large families who are close. I had a friend in high school with eight siblings and so many cousins I wouldn't have been able to tell them apart, but she loved every one of them fiercely. She could name every cousin, what they liked or hated, their hopes and dreams. She defended every sibling, cried with them, laughed with them, loved them, and she treated her friends the same. You could never say that her love for one sister made her love for another any less."

"It's different with people who aren't family," he said, frowning.

"Is it?" She asked rhetorically. "Family is viewed as the people genetically similar to you, but if you broaden that a bit, all humans are genetically similar to each other. Friends, when you become close enough, can feel like family. They can feel like more than family. Your bond with them is stronger, I think, because you choose to love them, you weren't obligated to but you do anyway."

"You don't chose who you love," he pointed out as they turned a corner.

"Of course you do," she said with a laugh. "When you love someone, really love them, somewhere along the line you decided to love them."

"You say a lot of very deep things, but I think you're wrong about love," he said at last. "Love isn't something you decide to feel, it's something that you feel, and then decide to accept or ignore."

"I guess the way we see love differs from experience," she said thoughtfully. "I've never been in love with someone I didn't want to be in love with."

"Not even your ex? The abusive one?" He asked, surprised.

"Well, I guess I didn't want to be in love with him in the end, but in the beginning I wanted that more than anything else," she said with a frown. "Maybe... maybe I loved him because I told myself I did until I believed it."

"Do you love Dan?" He asked after a moment.

"Yes of course, even if I'm not his best friend, he's mine," she said. "I want him to be happy."

"That's not the kind of love I meant," he said with a shake of his head. "I mean the all consuming feeling, it just rushes through you, your heart lifts, and you feel whole and amazing, like you could do anything you wanted to, so long as that feeling never leaves."

"I... don't think I've ever felt quite like that," she said, looking at her feet. She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. "Is that how you feel?"

"Yes," he said, his voice determined.

"Have you told Phil?" She asked, knowing she was prying now. He shook his head.

"I wanted to be sure that... well, he told me he loves me, weeks ago, but I couldn't say it back," he said slowly.

"Because you thought he was in love with Dan," she said, finally understanding.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I thought that, deep down, he was only using me to get over Dan. We're going away next week for two weeks to go see his family. I'll tell him then."

"He will be happy," she said with a smile. Ryan just nodded, and she could tell he was nervous about his decision, but that was something he would have to work out on his own.

She thought about how he had described love for the rest of the walk, wondering if it was different for him because he didn't get addicted to people. She had never felt how he had said, even when she and Tony were at their happiest. To her, love had always felt like a conscious decision to be made before it could be felt. It had never snuck up and overwhelmed her, as he said it could.

"So what were those pictures for? You said you couldn't tell me earlier because it would ruin it," she said, dragging them both out of their thoughts.

"I'm doing a series on mental illness," he said sheepishly. "I thought you would look perfect for depression, because you're so small and your hair contrasts your skin, and your eyes seem to stare through whatever you look at, like ice. I'll understand if you don't want me to use them."

"No, it's okay," she said, frowning. She had never been told that she was perfect for depression before, and the words hung with her.

"I like to try to find subjects who really understand what it's like," he explained. "I don't want some beautiful made up model staring out a window at rain. I want someone who knows that mental illness isn't beautiful or romantic, like it's portrayed in media."

"Which ones are you doing?" She asked, curious now.

"Depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, dementia, maybe schizophrenia," he said. "I'm not sure if I can find subjects for all those."

"What about things like addiction, or OCD?" She asked. "Maybe PTSD too."

"I could work those in," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe I should expand to include positives too. Happiness, love, things like that."

"You should do the different kinds of love," she suggested. He looked thoughtful at that.

"That might be a good idea," he said. "It's not really something that people think about often. Especially here, where most people speak English, because our language only has one word for love."

"Other languages have more than one?" She asked curiously. She had never put much thought into the subject before.

"Most do," he said with a shrug. "I've never looked into it."

"We should work together again sometime," she said a bit later as she recognized where they were. "I had fun today."

"Me too," he said. "I might drop by again next time it's nice out. You're very interesting to talk to."

"You are too," she said honestly. "It's not often that someone says something that makes me rethink my personal philosophy on a subject."

He smiled, and walked her all the way upstairs, even though he grumbled at the amount of stairs.

They parted ways outside the boys door, Ryan knocking before she opened her own door and walked inside.

She paused when she saw Dan at her dining room table. It was a familiar site, and she left her door unlocked when she went out mostly because she didn't know if he would want to come over or not, but something was off about him today. He glanced over his computer, and she smiled but it wasn't returned.

"What's wrong?" She asked, shedding her coat and leaving it on the couch arm as she walked by it.

"Been out?" He asked shortly, ignoring her question.

"Yeah," she answered slowly. "Ryan wanted help with a photography project he's working on, and he said today was a nice day for it, so we went to a park, took some photos, then walked around the city and talked for a while. There's a lot of the city I've never seen before."

"What, so you and Ryan are best friends all of a sudden?" He asked, his voice even.

"No, but we do have a lot in common," she explained. "Photography and painting take a similar attitude towards art."

His tense shoulders seemed to slump a little, and for the life of her she couldn't guess what he was thinking.

"I should go," he said, shutting the laptop in front of him and getting to his feet.

"Dan what's wrong?" She asked, following him to the door.

"Nothing," he said, not looking at her. "See you later."

And just like that he was gone, and her apartment was silent. She stared at the door, wondering how one tiny conversation that she didn't understand could ruin the perfectly content day she'd had to that point.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight - Get Away

Jamie didn't see the boys again for weeks. Phil and Ryan were gone traveling, and Dan wouldn't answer the door or his phone. She worried about him, fretting until she wore herself out and collapsed into her bed into restless sleep. She tried texting Phil finally, about a week before they would be coming back. He told her that Dan said he was fine.

She didn't want to be a bother, so she worried by herself until she finally could bring herself to text Phil again, two days before their return.

He did seem worried, finally calling to ask her what was going on. He told her to try the door, which was locked, then directed her to the key they had hidden above the door frame on the left corner. She hung up with him once the door was unlocked, promising to text him later.

The apartment was dark, and quiet and she crept through without turning the lights on, as though breaking the ambient atmosphere would cause some kind of damage.

She hesitated outside of Dan's bedroom door, then knocked quietly and cracked it open.

"Dan?" She called into the dark as her eyes adjusted. The bed was made neatly, and after a moment, she flipped the light on. His room was empty.

She made her was through the much larger apartment systematically, turning lights on as she went.

Finally she found him back in the living room, having passed him without noticing earlier.

He was curled up on the couch, sleeping silently, with an arm tucked under his head. He didn't flinch at the lamp she turned on nearby, and she frowned, seeing the dark circles under his eyes, and his pale skin.

She went to the kitchen, pouring a glass of water, then went to put it on the end table beside him. She went through their cupboards, pulling out the things to cook a simple meal, guessing he hadn't been eating properly.

When it was done, she put a plate of it in the microwave with a cover to heat up when he woke, then she settled on the couch, carefully maneuvering until she had his head on her lap and a blanket draped over him. She turned on the tv, knowing from past conversations that he slept better with background noise on. She flipped channels to a nature documentary, then settled in to watch, and wait. She subconsciously began stroking his hair calmly, and she could tell that he was sleeping better, his movement had ceased and the crease between his eyebrows smoothed out.

She spent the rest of the morning, and afternoon watching the sun move across the room. It was hours before he stirred, and she had dozed off a couple times.

"Dan?" She asked when he sat up away from her, rubbing his eyes.

"Jamie?" He asked, his voice a dry whisper. She handed him the water she had put out earlier, and watched him drink it. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

"I was worried about you," she said softly. "Phil told me where the key was."

"Phil's back?" He asked, peeking up a little. She shook her head.

"Not yet," she said. "In a few days."

She realized now that he was like this because Phil was gone, and though she should have expected that, it tore at her. She wasn't enough for him. She couldn't make him happy.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean to intrude. There's dinner in the microwave. I'll go home now."

"No, stay!" He seemed desperate. "Please, don't leave."

"Okay," she said, sitting back down on the couch. "I'll stay."

"I'm sorry I haven't been over for a while," he said, his voice sounding dejected. "I just... I guess I was upset that you were hanging out with Ryan."

"What?" She asked, totally blindsided by that.

"It's just... I guess I..." he hesitated, glancing up the hall at Phil's room and understanding hit her like a cannonball.

"You thought that I'd like hanging out with Ryan more than spending time with you because he already took Phil's attention, so why not mine too?" She asked slowly, feeling stupid for not seeing that sooner. "You were jealous."

"Er, yeah, I guess I was," he admitted, not meeting her eyes. She grabbed his hands, making him look up as she met his eyes.

"You're stupid," she said with a laugh, relieved after weeks of worry. "You're my best friend Dan. You're never getting rid of me, I promise."

He smiled and nodded, but his eyes looked sad, like he didn't believe her.

"Look, eat your food, and then we are going somewhere," she decided. He looked curious but didn't argue.

"What'd you fix?" He asked, following her into the kitchen.

"Spaghetti," she said with a shrug. "I'm not much of a cook, so it's the best I can do."

While he ate, she ran back to her apartment, stuffed some things into a backpack, and grabbed a coat. When she returned he was washing his plate, and she was glad to see a bit of color back in his cheeks.

She led him to his room, going through his wardrobe and handing him things to wear that he probably hadn't worn in a while, and specifically went against his online brand.

"Go change into those," she said, pointing to the bathroom across the hall. He obeyed silently. While he was gone she folded a change of clothes up for him and stuffed it into her backpack. When he came back he was wearing normal blue jeans, and a dark red shirt. She handed him a baseball cap to cover his hair, then smiled at the overall picture he made. Hopefully this change would keep him from being recognized on the streets.

"Where are we going?" He asked as she handed him one of Phil's light colored coats from the closet.

"It's a secret," she said with a smile. "Bring your Oyster card though, I don't have one."

He followed her silently down the stairs and towards the closest underground entrance.

Four stops later she led him up to the train station, and just replied to his curious looks with smiles.

"We're going to Bath?" He asked when she came back from buying the tickets and handed him one.

"Maybe," She said with a shrug.

"It's almost dark though," he pointed out. "The trains don't run after eleven."

"Is there's something important you need to be in London for tonight or tomorrow?" She asked, knowing there probably wasn't.

"Well, I guess not," he said with a shrug.

"When's the last time you did something spontaneous?" She asked as they waited for the train to start boarding. "The last time you went somewhere without telling anyone where you'd be and having no plans on what to do or when to go back?"

"I don't remember," he said after a moment.

"You need to get away for a while," she said. "And so do I. That's what your whole break from the internet was for right? To get away from expectations and figure out what you want and who you are."

"Yeah," he said softly. "I guess I haven't really done that much."

"If you don't want to do this, go somewhere you don't know and have no plans, we can go back right now," she said, giving him an out. He met her eyes for a moment, then smiled.

"I'll go anywhere you want to go," he decided.

"Well then from now on, let's just take everything as it comes," she said commandingly. "No regretting anything, no planning anything, no worrying about the outside world at all."

"But where are we going to stay?" He asked as they boarded the train. She led them to their seats, and dropped her backpack on the floor by her feet.

"That counts as worrying," she pointed out, pulling him down into the seat next to her.

He watched her for a moment, seeing the circles under her eyes and the worry lines on her forehead. He lifted his hand slowly, as though he didn't realizing he was doing it, and rested it on her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the dark circle there.

"I'm sorry for making you worry," he said softly, and she smiled as her something swept through her chest, making her feel as though she were about to cry, even though she wasn't sad. She swallowed it down as she looked away from his eyes.

"I always worry," she said as he dropped his hand. "I'm sorry for making you feel as though I didn't care about you."

He smiled back, and turned to the front of the train as it shuddered into motion.

They passed the hour and a half ride by quietly pointing out strangers and making up stories about their life. Occasionally one of them would point out something interesting outside, or remember something funny to tell the other.

The farther they got from London, the more they relaxed, and the more comfortable they both grew.

At the station, she led him off the train, and down a busy street. The sun was setting, but it was still warm out as they walked, seemingly nowhere, though she did have a destination in mind. Even though Dan had agreed not to worry about anything while they were here, she could tell he was fretting about what they would do for the night, so she led them out towards the edge of the city. Soon they were walking down a dirt pathway, in the dark, as the city lights dimmed behind them.

"Jamie," he said as they walked further and further. "I know I said I wouldn't worry, but it's dangerous to be out here at night. There's animals and probably criminals, and-"

"And a cabin," she said, pointing it out through the dark. "That's where we are going."

"Who's is it?" He asked, stopping beside her as they stared at the dark cottage.

"My great-aunt Cassidy's," Jamie said. "She owns a farm out here, all the land around here, and this cabin. She told me I was free to use it whenever I wanted to."

"I didn't know you had family here," he said, relaxing a bit as they walked toward the house.

"She's not my real aunt," she explained with a shrug. "She's one of my grandmas friends from school. I stayed with her when I first moved here, while I was apartment hunting."

"So no one lives here?" He asked as she opened the unlocked door.

"No, the main house is on the other side of the property," she said. "This place was here when she bought the land, and she likes it. Says it's rustic."

"I agree with her," he said, glancing around. She chuckled.

"There's no electricity here," she said. "I think that's why I like it so much. It's just so peaceful, no phones ringing, no cars, nothing except you and the earth."

He nodded, and they both moved around the single room of the cabin, exploring in the dark as much as they could. She lit the single scented candle she had brought, using it to rummage through the cupboards until she found what she was looking for with a triumphant grin.

She lit the oil lamps, placing one on the table, and taking one up the stairs to the bedroom.

"We don't have to share the bed," she said, feeling a bit awkward. "I can sleep on the couch."

"It's okay, I don't mind sharing," he said quietly.

"Are you tired?" She asked, leaving the lamp upstairs.

"Not really," he said, shaking his head.

"Good," she said with a grin. "I have something I want to show you. It's the whole reason I brought you out here."

"Okay," he agreed with a grin, following her out to the little porch.

"Wait, I forgot," she said, turning back inside. She ruffled through her backpack, digging out the blanket she had folded into it. "Leave your phone," she ordered, setting her own on the table. He obeyed, then followed her back outside.

She led them down a small rock path, down a slight hill behind the cabin, and through a small copse of thin trees, then across the side of a crop field.

"Here," she said at last, stopping near the side of the path that she knew continued on towards the main house. She spread her blanket out over the grass, and sat down on it, patting the spot next to her.

"What are we looking for?" He asked, making himself comfortable.

"Just wait a second," she said. "Our noise scared them away. We have to be quiet."

They both fell silent for a bit, and she could tell her was getting antsy with curiosity when a flash of light nearby drew her eye and she held a finger to his lips as he opened them.

"Look," she whispered as more lights began flashing as the fireflies lit around them.

She stared at the beauty around them, taking this moment in completely and imprinting it in her memories. The stars were bright this far from the city, and the flashes of light around them made it feel as though they were floating in the sky. She looked over at Dan, taking in his profile as he watched the fireflies dance around them.

"Dance with me?" She whispered, getting to her feet. She held a hand down to him, and he took it, shaking his head at her spontaneity, but grinning all the same.

"I don't know how to dance," he whispered as they moved away from the blanket.

"Me neither," she said with a smile. She wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her toes to do so, and his arms automatically came up to rest around her waist. They swayed back and forth for a moment, then Dan tightened his grip and lifted her up, twirling her in a circle and startling a laugh out of her. At the noise, the lights around them faded, but the stars still shone, and they kept dancing until the fireflies came back. She leaned her head against his chest, and his chin rested on top of her hair, and after a while they weren't even moving, just standing still, hugging tightly in the dark, surrounded by stars.

Later that night, or early morning, they were laying on the blanket, staring up at the stars, occasionally pointing out constellations they knew to each other. It was peaceful there in the field, watching the stars move across the sky.

Jamie had her head on Dan's shoulder, his arm wrapped around her back, and his other under his head as a pillow. They had pulled the sides of the blanket up over them at some point, an extra shield from the cool breeze, but neither wanted to get up.

She dozed off a bit before dawn, and was woken to Dan sitting them both up silently.

She rubbed her eyes, but left her head against his shoulder as they watched the sky change colors as the sun rose.

"Let's go back," she said at last, and struggled out of the blanket to her feet. As she bent to pick up the blanket, Dan grabbed her wrist and pulled her back up until she was facing him completely. She looked up at him in wonder as he pulled her into a tight hug.

"Thank you for this," he said softly into her hair. "I hope you know how much this means to me, and how important you are to me."

She leaned back to look at him again, then slowly stood on her toes to press her lips against his in a soft kiss.

His eyes closed, and he stooped when she pulled away to keep the kiss going, but she stepped back, her eyes closed and a smile on her face as he opened his eyes.

"Thank you," she said softly as she opened her eyes again. "You're my best friend, and you mean the world to me. I want you to be happy."

"You make me happy," he pointed out as she gathered the blanket from the ground and set off toward the cabin.

They walked together silently for a ways.

"Phil makes you happy," she said at last, and he sighed.

"Yes," he agreed. "But so do you."

"You need Phil like you need air, Dan," she said softly. "You can't exist without him."

"I can," he said with a frown. "I am right now."

"And you weren't until I came and got you out of your apartment," she said.

"That doesn't mean I can't exist without him," he argued. "I mean... do you not want... why did you kiss me?"

She walked silently for a bit, then sighed.

"I couldn't help it," she said. "You were so beautiful, and you were looking at me like I was special, like you needed me."

"I do need you," Dan said, pulling her to a stop again as they neared the cabin. "I need you. I can't- sometimes I feel like I'm drowning and I didn't know it until I'm with you and realize how well I can breathe."

She stared up at him, searching his face.

"I need you too, Dan," she admitted. "I need you the same way you need Phil. I'm not happy when you aren't with me, and I ache every time you leave."

She watched his face, but didn't see any fear or rejection or disgust there so she continued.

"Sometimes when you smile at me I can't breathe until you look away, and I lose my train of thought when I meet your eyes," she was meeting his eyes as she said that, searching for any sign to stop talking. "My chest hurts when I see you after a long time away, and I don't feel whole unless you are with me. That night when you held me, I'd never felt so safe and so loved before, it felt like nothing in the world could hurt me as long as you were there. I've never felt like that before."

"That's-" He cleared his throat. "That's love, Jamie." His words were soft, and beautiful, and she felt a tear trail down her cheek as a sense of fullness, and tightness swept through her so strongly that she couldn't breathe anymore. He cupped her cheek as he wiped away her tears. "That's what it feels like to be in love," he repeated, stooping down to pull her into a tight hug, his face pressed against her hair. "That's what I feel like when I'm with you."

"Really?" She asked, pulling back a bit as she wiped her eyes again.

"Of course, you idiot," he said with a laugh. "What do you think I've been trying to tell you?"

She thought back on all their talks, and all the times she had thought he'd been talking about Phil, and realized he had never once said he was talking about his friend when he talked about how much he needed to be wanted by someone. She thought back to his jealousy over her spending time with Ryan, when she had thought he was upset because of Phil leaving. She remembered every little comment or look that just screamed at her that he needed her, wanted her, loved her.

She had been so blind to him, when she had thought she knew him so well.

"I love you," she said to him, and for herself to accept. He grinned blindingly at her, and it was like the word came to life around them, the colors were brighter, the sun was warmer, everything was loud, and full of energy, and happy.

"I love you too," he said, and she couldn't help the watery laugh that bubbled up her throat at his words. He leaned down and kissed her, stopping her laugh, but she still felt the joy rushing through her as his arms wrapped around her again.

They made it back to the cabin, which was still chilly inside. She built a fire as he used a bottle of water she had brought to make tea in the old style kettle her aunt had stocked the place with.

They were both yawning as they climbed the stairs and fell into the bed together, both fully clothed against the chill as they tucked themselves under the quilt, and immediately cuddled closer to each other, in an effort to stay warm, and to sate the physical need for closeness they both felt strongly after their day.

She fell asleep to his heart beat, and he fell asleep to her soft breathing against his neck.


End file.
